


My Brother’s Keeper

by HalloweenBae



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Danger, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Lucille - Freeform, Lucille Play, Masochism, Negan’s mouth, Orgasm Denial, Sadism, Sexual Coercion, Vaginal Fingering, face grabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2019-10-26 14:28:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 34,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17747597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalloweenBae/pseuds/HalloweenBae
Summary: Your brother runs away and Negan has an idea how you can make up for it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For this story, I am assuming that Carol stayed with Rick and his group.

His whistle sounded in your ears as you washed the blood off your hands, forcing your muscles to contract, your bones to rattle and your blood to boil. You tried your best to ignore it, to focus on the water as it splashed over your hands and down the sink. Instead the whistle only got louder, projecting from its stationary spot in the doorway as it echoed off the walls of the infirmary.

“Can I help you?” You asked shakily, keeping your back to him as you turned off the water and dried your hands on a paper towel. 

“I’m sick,” he said smugly, his leather jacket squeaking against the metal doorframe.

“Oh really?” You took in a deep breath and tossed the paper towel into the trash, finally bringing yourself to face him. 

“Mmm,” he smirked, pressing his perfectly delectable lips together. He pushed himself off his perch on the doorway, arrogantly swinging Lucille around in a circle as he waltzed toward you. His tall stature and handsome face never got any easier for you to take in, no matter how many times you were forced to look at it. 

“I have a problem,” he confessed, walking past you to take a seat on the exam table. “WE have a problem.”

“Is that so?” You tried to ignore how dizzy his cologne made you, your very heart beating wildly in your chest.

“Your brother’s gone.” He admitted angrily, biting his lower lip before his arrogant grin wrenched your guts into a nervous concoction of fear, confusion and arousal. “Took off in the middle of the night with his wife and YOUR mom.” He set Lucille down and stood up, approaching you with long, slow strides.

Your brother… did… what? Your brother left… your mom, too? Without telling you? Without asking? Without saying goodbye? You felt the room start to darken, to get progressively smaller as you looked at the floor to get a grip on the situation. The vast heaviness of your brother’s choices weighed down on your shoulders as your chest began to slump under the pressure. 

“Are… are you sure?” you managed to stammer, looking up at him.

“Judging by your reaction, I assume he didn’t let you in on his little secret.” He paused and looked you over, his teeth brightening up the room as he sauntered past your comfort zone. “Now, I know you’re probably wondering why I’m coming to you first instead of your daddy.” His last word came out with a smirk.

“He won’t survive the iron,” you uttered immediately, remembering the heart attack your father suffered before the world turned dark.

“I know,” he leaned in, nuzzling his whiskers against your jawline. “That’s why I’m here,” he sang joyfully.

His breath was hot against your ear, the fine hair on your cheeks battling the bristles of his beard as he got closer. His chest and hips were solid, an immovable force against your body as he pushed you up against the sink, startling your palms onto the counter top. Retracting his head just enough to look at you, his dark lashes brushed against your forehead as he practically breathed his words into you. 

“I wanna pick that big ole’ brain of yours for a better option, because, oddly enough, I like your dad, and the last thing I want to do is flat iron his face until I get my hands on your brother.” 

“I could work more hours.” You offered, the fear of your father’s demise overshadowing the warmth pulsing between your thighs. 

“I don’t need you making mistakes.” He grabbed your chin, the musk of his leather glove swimming into your nostrils as his thigh slid between yours.

“I could…”

“Yeah?” He parted your lips with a pinch, a little bit of drool pooling around the middle as you looked up at him in trepidation. Those golden chestnut hues you were used to seeing had been completely obliterated by their inner circles, his pupils like merciless black holes.

“I could…” you swallowed hard. “You could…” you gasped, the pressure from his thigh drawing out the complicated truth beneath your jeans. 

“I could.” He nodded, licking your lips as he shoved you onto the countertop. 

Your desire for Negan had always been there, but you never thought he’d feel the same way about you. He had wives at his disposal, women in dresses and high heels whose only job was to satisfy his needs and look pretty. And well, you never really considered yourself to be pretty. Your sister was always the ‘pretty one’, despite the setbacks of the apocalypse. You thought that Negan would approach her for a courtship instead of you, but here he was.

“I’ve tried to avoid you, tried to keep you in here with Doctor Carson.” He started unbuttoning your pants with his other hand. “I mean, I should be dragging your dad out in front of the whole Sanctuary making a cheese fucking toastie of his face, but I can’t do that. I mean, you see what you’re doing to me when I get too close?” He smirked and nodded to the growing bulge in his pants. 

“I just can’t seem to trust myself around you.” He licked his lips and unzipped your jeans, fingering the hem of your underwear as he tugged it down your pelvis with the denim. “You know how many times I’ve thought about you? About fuckin’ your brains out in front of everyone?” He let go of your chin to slide your pants down your hips and thighs. 

“I can’t be your wife.” You whispered in between deep breaths, lifting your hips off the counter as he pushed the hard fabric down to your shins.

“If I wanted a wife, I’d go talk to your sister,” he smiled, running his thumb down your throbbing length. “All I want right now is you.”

You felt your stomach tighten, clenching at the thought of Negan actually bonding with you on a Biblical level. You watched as he grew against the constricting fabric of his jeans, the grey threads stretching to capacity as your thighs shivered in anticipation. 

His fingers touched you first, however, distracting you from his cock as they slid in between your lips, your moisture all but dripping onto the floor. The skin on his digits was rough, brushing against your sensitive spot before sliding inside of you repeatedly until you could no longer silence your excitement. A chorus of moans slowly escaped your chapped lips, drowning out his initial whistle that seemed so loud at the time. 

“Oh, you want that, huh?” he asked, seeing you glance at his erection. He grabbed your chin again, this time a little bit rougher as he drew your attention away from his pants. He chuckled and slid another finger inside of you, curling them up and towards him. “You think it’s gonna be that easy? After what your brother did?” He pressed his thumb against your clit, pushing it upward as little waves of pleasure crept up into your stomach. 

“I uh…” you breathed, clenching your eyes closed as the neurons in your muscles forced your thighs to twitch. “I just wanted…” You rocked your hips into his knuckles, begging for that synapse to continue its cascade up into your spine.

“You just wanted…what, exactly?” He increased the pressure on your bud, moving it up and down like a light switch as he watched your face change with each flip. “You want to make good on your family’s legacy, is that it?”

You nodded as his thumb finally lit up your entire body, the brightness straightening out your spine and curling your toes as you latched onto his leather jacket. That chain of electricity delivered sensation upon sensation as it took your breath away, washing over you in colors you’d never even seen before. Bright pinks mixed with deep purples as they morphed into the dark reds of the backs of your eyelids. Your moans turned into screams as he kept pushing and pulling inside of you, stretching out your convulsing walls with each thrust. You squeezed tighter around his fingers as your hips bucked into his hand, afraid of feeling dull and dry again after this immense shower of pleasure.

“This is just a trial run, baby, gotta test out the merchandise.” He pulled his fingers out of you, slowly dragging your trail of juices up your pelvis, abdomen and chest until they reached your mouth. “Whaddya think, huh?” He rose his eyebrows as his grip loosened on your cheeks, allowing his fingers to slide past your lips.

You opened your mouth, letting his fingers brush the tangy sweet liquid over your tongue to the back of your throat. He smiled as he kept his grip on you, guiding your head and neck as you practically gagged on your own arousal. Once he was satisfied with how deep you could take him, he drug a trail of spit down your lips and chin before sliding them into his own mouth.

“Good,” you finally whispered. 

“Good!” He smiled wide, taking his time to lick each finger before letting go of you entirely. 

He took a step back, looking you up and down with a sense of accomplishment as he rubbed his raging erection. “I think I’ll invest, keep your daddy in the clear.” He adjusted himself and winked at you. “See ya tomorrow.”


	2. Chapter 2

You ran toward your father’s quarters, the excitement and dread pulling your stomach into knots as the fatigue from your shift overshadowed the rest of your emotions. You wanted to find out if your brother had told your dad about his plan, if he had confided in him before he left, or if you were the only one being left in the dark. 

The small lamp in the corner of his room cast a dim light into the hallway as the door hung halfway open, signaling that your father was still inside. Maybe he hadn’t heard, or maybe he knew all along and wanted to spare you the knowledge of your brother’s treacherous plan. Either way you had to talk to him, to find out what he knew about your family’s current location.

“Daddy,” You rushed through the threshold, halting immediately at the sight of Negan’s leather clad shoulders looming over your father.

“Daddy.” Negan smiled as he kept his eyes on your father, gripping Lucille tightly in his hand. “Daddy,” he repeated, the word booming in his chest before swishing around in his mouth like a savory sauce. “Mmmm… I like that.” 

He smiled and licked his lips, glaring at your dad like a panther about to sink its teeth into its prey. “I was just telling Gary here about our little escape artist,” he addressed you, changing the subject. “Your dad says he’s just as surprised as you are about the whole damn thing, that Alex even left him a goodbye note!” 

You looked over at your father; the fear, anger and sadness all mixing together in a deep emotional stew that came out on his face as a clenched jaw and a single drop of sweat. He had to be afraid for your mother, for Alexander and Bethany. He had to be afraid of what they might face out there alone without him to protect them. If Alex had come to him in the past with this idea, your dad would have tried to talk him out of it. Maybe this was the last straw. Maybe he knew that they wanted to leave, but didn’t think they’d actually do it… until now.

You noticed a single piece of paper in his hand as he stood strong against your leader, the words scribbled on it barely visible from this angle.

I’m sorry,  
Alex

“Alex took off with two of my people, and I can’t have that, now can I, Gary?” He directed his attention back to your father, squeezing his shoulder.

“No,” your dad muttered, crumpling the piece of paper in his fist. “No, you can’t.” He took in a deep breath and stood up tall, puffing up his chest. 

“Good! I’m glad you’re a man of reason in the middle of all this family business.” Negan leaned in close, causing your father’s eye to twitch as the space between them nearly disappeared.

“Now, I know you PROBABLY had nothing to do with this, Gary, but I just had to ask.” He sucked in his breath, leaning back and glancing over at you with a devilish grin. “Just like I had to ask her before I came to you. I thought, maybe he would tell dear old dad first, bounce ideas off the big man, see what he thinks. But then I thought… the bonds between two siblings, well, that’s something that’s not so easily broken.

‘You see, Gary, luckily for you, your daughter here didn’t fall very far from the tree.” He stood up straight, rolling his tongue across his teeth as he stepped even closer. “In fact, I came to her first with the idea of burning your fucking face off… just half of it anyways, to pay for the loss of resources, and you know what she did, Gary?”

Your dad shook his head, unable to look at you as the stress built up inside. 

“She was good enough to offer a trade for what Alex did: her body for your body.” He grabbed Gary’s chin and squeezed. “I was just knuckle deep in your daughter’s pussy a couple of hours ago, and let me tell you what, she tastes like a fucking DREAM!” 

“Jesus,” you whispered, an uneasy heat flooding your cheeks. What did he just say?! You looked down at your feet, unable to view the disappointment and horror that no doubt painted your father’s features at this news. You couldn’t believe Negan would say that to him while you were standing right here in front of them. Well, actually, maybe you could. 

“She’s not a good choice, Negan. She’ll only disappoint you. If you want a wife, you should pick Natalie.” You heard your father whisper. Wait, what?

“Natalie? Her sister?” He chuckled. “Everyone’s trying to sell me on Natalie today like there’s a goddamn Going Out Of Business Sale!” He paused and squeezed your dad’s chin even tighter. “I don’t think you heard me when I said these fingers that are squeezing your cheeks right now are the same fingers that were inside her pretty little lips.” He took a breath. “Let me make one thing clear since we’re all here together and can’t get it confused: I want her, not Natalie. I get her whenever I want until your stupid ass son shows up with the rest of my people. As long as she puts out, you don’t get burned. And when Alex comes back? Oh boy, you bet your ass he’s gettin’ the iron for all six of you.” He squeezed the worn down handle of his bat. “Is that clear?”

“Yes sir,” your dad whispered, his breath quick and shallow. 

“Good boy!” He let go of his face and patted him on the cheek before giving his shoulder one last squeeze. “I’m glad we all had this little chat.”

You stared at your father in disbelief, his lack of faith in you disturbing as his words repeated in your head: she’s not a good choice, she’ll only disappoint you. What did that mean? Why was he so quick to dismiss you? Didn’t he think you were capable of…? You shook your head and dismissed the thought, the situation too complicated for you to grasp at the moment. 

“You ready, baby?” Negan stood in front of you now, Lucille on his shoulder and a smile on his lips. 

“Yeah,” you lied, trying to cover up the awkward feeling your father had given you. “I’m ready.”


	3. Chapter 3

“What the shit was all that back there? Your sister win a dick-sucking contest at the county fair and nobody bothered to tell me?” Negan’s voice echoed against the walls of his bedroom before he shut the door behind him. 

“No,” you whispered, still constantly baffled by his jarring words. 

“Well then, what is it? Am I making the wrong choice, here?” He set his bat down in the corner of the room, hovering his hand over it gently to make sure it wouldn’t move before walking away.

“No!” The thought of her taking your place made your stomach turn even more than watching Negan brag to your father about what happened in the infirmary. All your life you played second fiddle to your older sister, and you weren’t about to do the same here at The Sanctuary. “She just…” 

How could you possibly describe your inferiority complex to him without sounding stupid, without sounding petty? How could you tell him that she paved the way for every social interaction you ever had in the small town you grew up in together? All the second-hand clothes and second-hand relationships from her made that pavement dry and cracked over the years. You recalled men and women commenting on how hot your sister was before realizing she was with someone else until they eventually settled for you. Negan was the first person to notice you before even glancing at her, and that was something. 

You watched him removed his glove and jacket, taking his time to carefully drape them over the back of the couch before waltzing back in front of you. His face was stern and prompted more of an explanation.

“She’s more… active than I ever was.” You decided to shorten your answer, hoping he’d drop the issue. 

“Active?” He leaned to the side, his eyes widening in anticipation.

“She’s had a lot more boyfriends than I have, and most men like her more.” You swallowed hard, your cheeks heating up again in shame. “Most men like her first, that’s all.” You looked down at your feet, an involuntary deep breath expanding your lungs wider than you’d expected.

“So, you ever get her sloppy seconds?” he asked, sauntering towards you until his boots brushed the tips of your worn down sneakers. 

You let out your breath and took in another one, trying to focus on what you wanted to say instead of what had actually happened in the past.

“You have!” His voice was softer now, but closer to your ear as you kept your eyes on the floor. “Well, shit, we’ve all been there! Hell, I get one of my men’s sloppy seconds every time I bang one of my wives, but we’re not here to talk about that, now are we?”

“No,” you muttered, feeling his finger lift your chin. 

“No.” The jovial smile melted off his face as your gaze met his, the rest of his fingers wrapping themselves tightly around your neck. 

You gasped as he squeezed even harder, glaring at you through thick lashes that seemed to cast a dark shadow over you. He pulled you into him, tilting your chin upward with his thumb, and without a word, asked if this was okay. He rose an eyebrow to beg the question as his thumb rubbed against the length of your neck, gently massaging your carotid.

You nodded in response, feeling that rush of adrenaline you missed as he backed you up against the wall. 

“Good girl,” he whispered, his smile returning. His voice was like gravel on a dark back road, settling in your ears as the concrete wall cooled your upper extremities. 

You tried to control your breathing, his grip sliding up and down your throat until it eventually loosened enough to travel down your chest and abdomen. His fingers were just as you remembered them, rough and strong against your skin as he removed each item of clothing. 

He undressed you in silence, a phenomenon quite unusual for a man who never seemed to stop talking. Kneeling down before you, he pulled and tugged on the garments that protected you from the elements for so many years, the buttons and zippers echoing loudly in the room. 

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, standing up after sliding off your socks. “On your hands and knees for me, Princess.” He smirked and let his hands fall to the buckle of his belt, sliding the leather strap out of its metal latch.

Oh boy, this was really happening, wasn’t it? His confident demands hardened your nipples and shook your thighs as you ran your palms down the front of your body to make sure you were all still there. You suddenly realized just how naked you actually were as you watched him undress the rest of the way before he nodded toward the bed.

“Y...yessir,” you whispered, taking the hint and climbing on top of the mattress.

“Sir, huh?” He slid his pants down along with his underwear and kicked off his boots. “I like that.”

You felt your muscles tighten as you glanced back at him, the one between your legs starting to swell as you noticed his size, large enough to match his ego. You rocked your body backward and presented yourself like some sort of show dog on PBS in front of his… mirror? Mirror! How long had that been there? Who in their right mind would have a mirror at the end of their bed…? Negan. Negan WOULD have a mirror right where he wanted it.

“Look at you,” he praised, walking around the side of the bed. 

You couldn’t help but follow his instructions, looking at your starved and naked body in such a demeaning position made you furrow your brow. You’d always avoided mirrors in The Sanctuary, and now you remembered why. You could see the scar from that fence a few years back, the puncture from the pencil you fell on in the sixth grade and your ribs. Each of them slid under your skin as you took deeper breaths to prepare for what was to come. 

Before the apocalypse you would have loved to have looked like this, to be this skinny. Now that you had no choice, well, you cursed your past self for wanting something so frivolous and superficial. What you wouldn’t give right now for some extra padding on your hips and ass and maybe even on your stomach.

“Damn, baby.” He pulled you out of your pity party and traced his fingertips down your spine, drawing out even more moisture between your thighs. “You see that?” He climbed on top of the bed and began stroking himself behind you, the sound of his skin igniting something primal in you.

“Yeah,” you whispered, ogling his reflection.

“You’re gonna watch me slide inside that pretty little pussy of yours, and don’t you dare think about looking away.” He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your head back. “Now, are you gonna be a good little girl for Daddy?” he asked in a gruff voice.

Your breath hitched at the word. Daddy?! Your mouth fell open in surprise as his grip on your scalp tightened, forcing you to stare at the ceiling while he teased your entrance. 

“Uh-huh,” you managed to whimper, nodding and pushing your hips backward in hopes of enveloping him.

“I thought so,” He let go of your hair and grabbed your ass, running the tip of his cock up and down your length. “Fuck baby, you are soaked! All that for me?”

“Mmm hmm,” you whispered again, shaking in anticipation. 

“Good girl,” he repeated. He slid his arm under your thigh before lifting it up above his hip, pushing you down onto your side in one fluid motion so you could face the mirror as he finally pushed himself inside of you. 

“Oh!” you gasped, letting your eyes close as he stretched you out. “Oh my god!” 

“Keep those eyes open, baby,” he whispered, grabbing your chin and turning it toward the looking glass. He smiled as he thrust himself inside of you, slowly at first just to watch every inch of his cock get swallowed up by your dripping wet heat. “That’s it.”

You let your ankle rest on his shoulder as he kindled the flame inside of you, sparking a chemical reaction each time his tip brushed up against your cervix. His balls pressed against your skin, holding that wild sensation for as long as he could before pulling back out of you and starting all over again. Sweat dripped down between you two, the sounds of skin on skin quickening as he started to pick up the pace.

You wanted to touch him, to grab him and kiss him as you clenched your muscles down around him, but his grip on your chin only tightened when you tried to sit up. You moaned in protest as you reached for his chest, scratching three lines across his heart as his hips pounded you deep into the mattress. 

“Not today baby,” he managed to whisper in between thrusts. He grabbed your ankle and pushed it off his shoulder, laying you flat on your back before his hand wrapped around your throat again. He turned your head to the side, rocking into you and barely pulling out in between thrusts as his lips grazed your neck. 

He opened his mouth and bit down, pulling on the tender flesh below your chin as his teeth shot jolts of pain throughout your body. Those sharp stimuli countered the deep, rhythmic pleasure that his hips were giving you; overwhelming your senses with a mixture of pain and pleasure you never knew you needed. 

“You may not be my wife, but you’re fucking mine.” he whispered into your skin, sucking his way down your neck while his grip remained ironclad. 

“Uh-huh!” you muttered, arching your back as his thrusts became relentless.

He bit you again, taking a new piece of flesh into his mouth as he slammed inside of you so wildly that you began to see stars and flashes of light. 

You lifted your legs as he finally brushed against that spot you had so often thought was a myth, and wrapped your legs around his lower back.   
Your insides started to quake, to convulse and spasm as he pulsed inside of you and sucked another bruise onto your skin, starting something you no doubt would want more of. Your moans carried throughout the room as the two of you came together, falling apart and collapsing next to each other in a heap of sweat and cum. 

“Yeah, I definitely chose the right sister.”


	4. Chapter 4

A hazy phase of sleep blanketed you like the comforter slung over your shoulders, blocking your inhibitions as you let your limbs discover every inch of your bedfellow. Your fingers sifted through the hair on his chest, accepting your blissful surroundings as one often does in a dream before quickly realizing that something is off. The sandman’s effects slowly began to wear off, Negan’s warmth drawing your arms and legs around him like an octopus strangling its prey. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d slept in a bed this big, this soft, this… occupied. Your eyes fluttered open, the image of the man next to you beginning to match the sensation of skin beneath your palms. He was real, his dark and dangerous features coming to life as his gravelly voice vibrated in his chest. He wasn’t a dream, after all.

“Mornin’ baby.” His voice broke the silence as he turned on his side, slowly sliding his hands up your thighs.

“Morning,” you repeated, melting into him with your legs around his hips. 

His natural magnetism pulled you in, making you writhe against him as your folds became slick with arousal. You wanted to feel him inside of you once more, to push and pull your muscles past their breaking point no matter how badly it hurt. That pain was only matched by the intensity of his pleasure; a fire that reminded you what it once felt like to be alive.

“Is that a shower I see?” You nodded toward the door off the side of the bed, hoping for an extra morning romp before you headed off to work. 

“You’re bold, I’ll give you that.” He smiled and bit his lip, tilting his head in amusement as he processed your words. 

Bold? What was so bold about asking for a shower after everything you two did together? After licking, biting and sucking each other’s orifices until your mouths ran dry?

“I only shower with my wives, and you made it pretty damn clear you didn’t want that title.” He paused and traced a line down your stomach, tickling the fine hair below your navel as he inched toward your heat. 

“I just thought you’d want me clean for the next time we…” 

“No.” His fingers slid inside of you, stealing your breath as he leaned in close. “You’re gonna go to work today smelling like me, tasting me in your mouth while I drip out of that tight little pussy and run down your leg.” He smirked. “You’re going to be even more soaked than you are right now, and I’ll be there after dinner to lick it all back up.” 

He curled his fingers up inside you while his thumb made circular movements on your clit, forcing you to exhale. “You better get back to work. I’m sure the good doctor is wondering where you are.”

—————————

There was no time to run back to your quarters, to change your clothes or get something to eat before you made your way over to the infirmary. Your thighs throbbed as you took the stairs down to your work station, the bruises he’d sucked into your flesh twinging with each step. You’d regretted letting him bend you into all those positions, your calves and biceps crying out in just as much pain as the rest of your body.

“Where have you been?!” Doctor Carson asked in a scolding tone. “It’s eleven o’clock in the morning, you practically missed half the day!” His eyes were wide with surprise; this wasn’t like you. 

“I know, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise!” You scrambled to get into your white coat, pulling your hair back so it wouldn’t get caught in the collar before he stopped you.

“So it’s true,” he whispered, carefully palpating your neck. “You were with him.” His words were heavy despite their airy nature, weighing down on you like anvils on your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how late it was,” you stammered, fixing a few stray strands of hair. You let him examine your face and neck while you finished putting on your coat, hoping he wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. 

“Don’t be sorry.” He flashed a light in your eyes, bringing his torch down to the bruises on your neck. “Did he hurt you? Do you have more of these bruises?”

“No.” You bit your lip, half telling the truth. “No, it wasn’t like that.” You briefly thought about explaining your experience to Doctor Carson before he spoke again.

“How long until you leave, then?” He clicked the flashlight off and put it back in his pocket. “Do you think you’ll have time to train someone else before you go?”

“Emmet,” you stopped him, “I’m not leaving.” You awkwardly patted him on the shoulder, remembering that therapeutic touch was a key driver in trustworthy communication.

He smiled slowly, a melancholic look gracing his features as he clasped his hand over yours. “You think you have any say in it?”

“I told him…” you started.

“You told him?” He cut you off, his barely visible eyebrows disappearing into his nonexistent hairline. “People don’t tell Negan things; people do what they’re told.” His tone switched from judgmental to concerned as he kept his eyes on you. 

“Look, I know it’s not what I expected, but…”

“Hey guys.” A new voice made you let go of each other and look at the doorway. “Sorry to bother you, but uh, could one of you stitch me up?” 

Alden lifted his hands to display a bloody rag pressed into a wound on the back of his forearm. He squeezed it tightly as bright red blood began to soak through the plaid pattern that was ripped off the bottom of his shirt. He looked nervous, but not pale, sweaty or scared; he must not have been bitten.

“Y… yes, Alden, come here.” Doctor Carson immediately forgot about your situation and escorted Alden to the exam table as you rummaged through the cabinets for a bottle of saline and a suture kit. “Were you bitten?” He went over to the sink and began to wash his hands, nodding for you to place the supplies on the bedside table.

“No walkers today, Doc. Just a slip of the axe,” Alden chided, slowly pulling the cloth off his wound. “He didn’t mean it, it just slipped.” He winced as he took the flannel rag off his arm, ripping fragments of blood and skin with it as he dropped it into the trash can.

“Who did this?” Doctor Carson dried his hands and put on a fresh pair of gloves.

“Like I said, Doc, it was just an accident.” He glanced up at you with almond brown eyes as you took your turn washing your hands at the sink. “Gary didn’t mean it.”

You turned off the water and dried your hands. Gary? Your dad, Gary? You put on a pair of gloves and twisted the cap off the bottle of saline, trying to block the emotions from your sterile procedure. Your dad did this? To Alden?

“This is going to sting a little,” you warned him, washing his cut with a stream of normal saline. You were preparing yourself as much as you were him, reluctant to hear the rest of the story. “Doesn’t look that deep, Alden, we’ll get you back to work in no time.”

Alden groaned as the fluid washed away fragments of blood and cloth, making a fist with his hand as he sucked in his breath. He winced and forced a smile as Doctor Carson began his line of sutures. “Your dad’s not himself today, he’s a little… distracted, and I can see why.” He pointed to your neck before closing his eyes and biting his knuckle. 

“Is he okay?” You took Alden’s hand to hold his arm steady so your mentor could stitch in a straight line. “Did he say anything?”

“He’s okay, and he’s as good as any man would be who just lost his wife and kids.” He kept his eyes shut tight as the needle pierced his skin, pulling the thread through his wound. “And his favorite daughter to his boss.”

“Favorite daughter?” You furrowed your brow at the term. “Did he make any other mistakes?” You squeezed his hand as Doctor Carson tied off his final stitch. “Anything noticeable to get him in trouble? Did he piss anyone off today?”

You knew your dad had a temper that often got him in trouble before you landed at the Sanctuary. A few bashed in heads cut that personality trait short, and he seemed to fit in well with Negan and the rest of the Saviors. You knew that losing half his family in a single day might make him forget about those immediate consequences, and earn him an appointment with the iron, after all. 

“No. Gary’s just distracted is all. I told him not to worry about it, that you’d stitch me up and everything would be fine.” He opened his eyes as Doctor Carson started wrapping gauze around his cut. “He’s a good man, and he’s always looked out for me.” He paused and smiled at you, his honest face granting you temporary peace of mind. “The least I can do is look out for him.”

“Alden,” you whispered, squeezing his hand before letting go. “Thank you.”

“Thank you!” He lifted his freshly-wrapped arm into the air and acknowledged Doctor Carson.

Hopping off the exam table, he whispered in your ear. “And hey, you and I both know Negan has a way of making us do things we wouldn’t normally do.” He smirked and nodded at the doctor before walking out of the infirmary. 

“Yeah.” You rubbed your neck, flashing back to last night. “Yeah, I guess we do.”


	5. Chapter 5

“How long have you known?” The truth of your sister’s knowledge stung like a freshly open wound even though it didn’t surprise you. She’d always been the most secretive, the most manipulative, the most controlling of your siblings. You looked Natalie in the eye, her hazel irises expanding as she avoided your stare. 

“A week or so,” she finally admitted.

“Natalie, you should have told me,” you paused in disbelief at your sister’s treachery. “Negan has scouts from here to Timbuktu watching the roads to the other communities. Did you think about that?” You walked past your father who couldn’t stop staring at the goodbye note Alex had written him, speechless on his bunk. 

“And risked you blabbing your mouth to Doctor Carson or anyone else who walked into the infirmary?” She rose her eyebrows accusingly. “I don’t think so.”

“I don’t blab my mouth!” You defended, folding your arms across your chest. 

“No, but you’re a bad liar, and so is dad. I couldn’t risk telling either of you.” She pointed to him.

“Hey!” He interjected, looking up from the letter. “I can keep a secret!”

You both pursed your lips, rolling your eyes as you remembered all the times he verbalized his innermost thoughts at the most inappropriate times.

“Alright, I’ll give you dad, but why didn’t you go just with them? Why are you still here? You hate it here.” You took a few steps forward, leaving only a foot of space between you. 

“Somebody had to take care of him.” She nodded toward your father. “You’re already maxed out on points with your job, so I thought that when Negan found out they’d escaped he’d want…” her eyes darted over you nervously. “I thought that he’d want more from us.”

“And you thought that he’d want you, huh?” You swallowed hard, her confidence never ceasing to amaze you. 

“Well yeah, I mean, what else could I do? I majored in cosmetology, I can’t…” she glanced around the room frantically, “Fix people when they’re hurt or build structures for the Sanctuary. I’m not like you and dad, okay?”

“So you were just going to… what? Fuck your way out of this like you fuck your way out of everything else?” Years of resentment began to manifest itself as anger, fanning a flame that burnt hot on your cheeks as your words became more candid. 

“Looks like you beat me to it.” She tilted her head, glancing at your fresh bruises. “I was surprised you even remembered how to spread your legs at all.”

Your mouth fell open as your sister’s words hit the air, cutting you deep. 

“Okay,” you started, putting a cautionary hand in the air, “It wasn’t even like that, and just so you know, I’ve spread my legs plenty.”

“Oh yeah? And how long ago was that?” Her eyes widened in judgement. “Negan needs someone with experience, not someone like you.”

“At least I haven’t slept with half the sanctuary already!” You couldn’t believe you were being prude-shamed by your own flesh and blood. “And just so you know, I’ve been focused on my career, doing my part to keep the whole family be safe, not trying to get my rocks off every chance I get!”

“That’s what I’m trying to do!” She screamed desperately, her jugular vein distending in her neck. “We can’t risk you getting overwhelmed with intimacy like you ALWAYS do. If anyone was made for this, it was me.” She clenched her jaw as she stared you down, her expression as dire as her words. “This is life or death, and we can’t mess this up.”

“Girls,” your father interjected, standing up. “Your mother’s out there with your brother somewhere. The last thing she’d want you to do is fight.”

“We’re not fighting, we’re having a conversation,” you whispered through gritted teeth. Those very words were often uttered by your mother after hours of screaming between them while you and your siblings huddled together at the top of the stairs. 

He gave you a knowing glance and continued, “This has to stop.” He folded the piece of paper in half, in fourths, then in eighths before putting it in that tiny little pocket in the front of his jeans. “Negan made his choice, and we have to honor that.”

“I will if she does,” Natalie hissed.

“Alright,” you smirked, exposing both palms. “I’ll see you guys later.”

——————-

You tried your best to distract yourself, to put that horrid conversation in the back of your mind as you opened the latest novel Alex had lent you: Clear and Present Danger. Jesus, that sounded a little too close to home, didn’t it? You soldiered through the first few pages, not being able to focus on the words in front of you at all. You felt yourself reading the same sentence three times over before actually registering what it was trying to say. Nothing against Tom Clancy, but you just weren’t in the mood to read. 

God, you missed movies.

Instead you decided to get some air, to change the scenery of these bland concrete walls to help improve your mood. You pushed into the heavy metal door at the end of the hallway, its hinges squeaking loudly against the rusted metal of the frame as you walked through the threshold and into the wet summer heat. The hum from the electric light in the corner of the building mixed with with the buzz of batted wings as moths and mosquitoes battled for dominance in an ambient summer chorus. At least these bugs would bite and suck your blood without judgement.

You let the door slam shut behind you, hearing it catch on the cinder block that kept it open for whoever else was out here. You were hoping to be alone for a few minutes but with the Sanctuary’s security protocols, the likelihood of that was very slim. Whoever was out here would be light years better company than your sister or that book.

“The hell are you doing out here?” The female Savior turned to face you, her M-16 at the ready. Oh thank God, it was only Laura.

“Can’t sleep,” you confessed, feigning to raise your hands in surrender. 

“You never have trouble sleeping.” She loosened the grip on her weapon, letting go of it completely to let it hang by the strap on her shoulders. “You wanna talk about it?” She jested, turning away before you could even answer.

“Not really,” you whispered.

One of the perks of being a nurse at the Sanctuary was earning the inherent trust of most of its residents. Workers and Saviors alike all came to you and Doctor Carson in their times of need, putting their lives and comfort in your hands. Laura was one of those people about a year ago, getting shot in the stomach by a vagrant traveler when she hobbled into the infirmary covered in blood.

You remembered stitching her up while Doctor Carson was busy with an amputation next door, feeding her antibiotics and a few extra painkillers when no one else was looking. Ever since then she’d always looked out for you, grabbing extra medical supplies and candy when she went out on runs. She even went as far as bringing you a new stethoscope one time. You guessed she was the closest thing you had to a friend in the apocalypse.

“Good.” She walked over to the picnic table and picked up a thermos full of piping hot coffee. Despite the sticky heat that surrounded you both, she pursed her lips around the metal lid, blowing on the black liquid to cool it down. Taking a tentative sip, she smiled as the jolt of caffeine rushed through her veins, offering some to you in return.

You took the gift from your friend, hoping it would keep you awake long enough to avoid your bed until your sister’s words left your memory. ‘I’m surprised you remembered how to spread your legs at all’ … unbelievable! The coffee was bitter, and no help in washing away those awfully fresh memories. Maybe what you needed was a stronger drink, something with alcohol in it. 

“Simon said he couldn’t find your family at Hilltop; they just got back.” Laura took her thermos back from you, sipping again before placing it gently on the picnic table.

“Thanks,” you replied somberly, knowing of only one other community they could be at. “Hopefully they find them soon.” You lied through your teeth, even to Laura whose kindness set her apart from the rest of the Saviors. You’d take your peace of mind any way you could get it.

“Negan will probably search The Kingdom tomorrow. He sounded pretty pissed that Simon didn’t bring them back tonight.” She leaned her back against the table.

“Yeah, I figured he would go there first,” you whispered, hoping he was miles away from any community Negan had on his radar. 

Negan… Negan… oh shit, didn’t he say he was going to stop by tonight? Shouldn’t you be in your apartment graciously waiting for him to come over and…

“You should try to get some rest,” Laura interrupted your thoughts. “He’ll want you on your A-Game tomorrow.”


	6. Chapter 6

Negan was standing in your bedroom when you got there, his entire presence spread out as he paced with Lucille planted firmly on his shoulder. His jaw clenched as he took you in, pursing his lips together as he chewed on the bitter words about to come out of his mouth.

“I don’t like to be kept waiting.” His voice was quiet but still managed to rip your heart out of your chest and drop it into the boiling acid of your stomach.

“I didn’t know what time you’d be here,” you admitted, kicking yourself for your little chat with Laura. 

“Did you forget what’s at stake here, Princess?” He lifted an eyebrow without breaking his scowl. 

“No.” You couldn’t forget that for a second, not even if you wanted to. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” 

“You’re sorry?” His lips curled into that menacing grin that always seemed to do you in. He loosened his grip on Lucille, ran his tongue across his teeth and sauntered toward you. “Oh, you're gonna be sorry, alright.”

You swallowed hard, finally admitting to yourself that the scarier he got the more you wanted him. He was the human embodiment a haunted house, new terrors awaiting you on the other side of each door, and you just HAD to see what was behind each one. Maybe it was that, or maybe he was the only one intense enough to jolt you out of your mundane life here at the Sanctuary. Either way, you were ready for whatever punishment he had planned for you.

“Strip,” he ordered, his words forcing the muscle between your thighs to tighten.

“What’s that, now?” Did you hear him correctly? Did he just tell you to strip? Maybe you weren’t as ready as you thought you were. 

“I said strip,” he repeated, pointing to your clothes. “Boots and socks first, then those jeans, then the t-shirt.” He paused and bit his lip. “Keep your bra and panties on.”

Oh boy, you’ve never done this before, not even once, not even on your drunkest of nights. You smiled at him anyway, forcing yourself to be sexy and not fall flat on your face as you unlaced your boots and slipped off your socks. You watched his smile widen as you stood up and unbuttoned your jeans, sliding them down to your ankles before stepping out of them completely. 

“Good,” he whispered, gently striding up to you. His hazel gaze danced over your body as he took in a stifled breath, sliding Lucille slowly up between your calves, “Keep going.” 

Another door to that haunted house had opened, bringing with it immeasurable darkness and a heat you’d never felt before. It took over your body completely, quivering your knees together as Negan inched Lucille even higher between your legs. That bat that had ended so many lives, obliterated so many walkers, and enacted countless amounts of justice was now teasing the fine hair of your inner thigh. You looked down as it twisted into you and pulled you closer, grazing you in a motion so quick that you almost missed it. 

“Negan!” You screamed a hoarse whisper as scarlet beads suddenly pulsed out of your skin.

“I said keep going,” he growled.

You took in a deep breath as he reluctantly drew the bat away, forcing yourself to ignore the twinge of pain as you averted your attention back to him. You watched as he stepped backwards toward the bed, grinning as he undid his belt and took a seat on your mattress. He set Lucille down against the wall and let his belt fall to the floor before quickly removing the second one. 

Without a second thought you removed your shirt.

“Sit,” Negan ordered. He patted his knee and licked his lips, rubbing the length of his thigh as he devoured your half-naked form with hungry eyes.

You nodded and did as you were told, that heat all but consuming you as you tiptoed over to him and gently sat on his lap. You had a pretty good idea of what he was going to do to you; slap your ass and call you a bad girl while your cheeks got raw and swollen. You’d played this game before, whether your sister was aware of it or not. You were going to prove to her and Negan that you could do more than just play.

“Atta girl,” he praised, his hands sliding up your waist.

You turned your hips and straddled his thighs, relishing the sensation of his fingers on your torso as Lucille’s cut burned against his denim. The contrast of fire and ice on your skin almost made you unaware of his growing erection; the fullness between your legs making you smirk as you slowly unzipped his leather jacket. 

“Did I say you could undress me?” He scowled.

“Do you want me to stop...” You bit your lip and tugged the zipper halfway down his abdomen, pulling him into you with a fistful of black leather. “Daddy?”

“Shit, no.” He exhaled, his demeanor changing as you uttered that last word. He grabbed your ass with both hands and pushed you down into him. “As you fuckin’ were.”

Yeah, that’s what you thought. You smiled and undid the rest of his jacket, taking your time to push the heavy leather off his arms. You rocked your hips forward, riding him at a slow and torturous pace as the moisture from your cunt soaked through your panties and onto his jeans. His bulge rubbed up against your clit each time you fell back onto his hands, his fingertips sliding underneath the cotton to tease your entrance.

“Eager beaver, huh?” His breath was hot on your neck as he whispered in your ear.

You groaned as you felt him slide his digits between your swollen lips, waves of warmth flowing their way up into your belly as they pushed even deeper inside. God, he felt so good. Why did he always have to feel so damn good?

“Mmm, I love it when that pussy’s all wet and ready for me,” he whispered, pushing his fingers in even deeper. He paused and looked at you, taking one hand away and grabbing your thigh before looking at the wound he’d just inflicted on you. “You got blood on my jeans.” He raised his eyebrows and nodded at the maroon droplets on his pants.

“But you just…”

He pressed into your cut, his thumb digging into your skin as bright red blood started to pool around it. That burning feeling intensified, turning into a thousand tiny knives as more blood emerged and spilled over his thumb. He twisted into you, his jagged fingernail piercing your skin and making you wince. 

“Hey!” You smacked his face, the only thing you could think of to get him to stop.

He closed his eyes and let go of you, shaking his head as the shock from your hand knocked a few screws loose. “Oh baby, you’re gonna pay for that.”

Negan quickly took your neck in his hand and grabbed your waist, turning you flat on your stomach over his knees. A sharp sting took you by surprise, his palm making an audible smack against your skin as the spank rocked your body forward. 

“You gonna make me wait like this again?” He smacked your other cheek with just as much force, the crack echoing against the concrete walls of your apartment.

“No,” you whimpered, closing your eyes as the sensation already began to fade. 

“Are you gonna bleed on me again, Princess?” Another smack.

“No,” you whispered again, biting your lip.

“No, what?” he asked, taking your underwear in his hands and ripping it down the middle. 

“No, Daddy, I won’t make you…” You gasped as he spanked you again, this time hard enough to send a jolt of pain shooting up your spine. The sharp stimuli forced your body to writhe, making you forget Lucille’s wound as your moisture dripped onto his jeans. 

“What was that?” He slid his fingers back inside your wet heat, bending down to whisper into your ear. “It sounds like you were trying to speak.” He circled his thumb around your ass as his fingers worked deep in your pussy. “Cat got your tongue?” The pressure of his thumb forced your eyes to the back of your head as it penetrated your second entrance.

“You are so fucking tight back there, you know that?” he praised, pushing in a little deeper. “I mean, I knew you were a tight-ass with the medical supplies, but goddamn!” He licked his lips and spat on your ass, giving his thumb more lubrication to advance even deeper. 

“Yes, Daddy,” was all you could say, his fingers doling out cascading waves of euphoria.

You felt your breath begin to stifle, to hitch and pause as he shook his hand deep within you, filling you up without even touching your clit. You thought about rocking backward against the curve of his thigh, to get some leverage in order to get off while he plowed into you, but the cut on your leg hindered your movement.

“Hands behind your back, baby.” He smacked your ass again, tearing the shreds of underwear off your hips before dropping them onto the floor. “That’s it,” he purred, taking your wrists as you complied and carefully tracing the veins of your inner arms. “You think I didn’t feel you tryin’ rub one off on my thigh? Even after you got all that blood on my jeans?!”

He pulled his fingers out of you, robbing you of any pleasure until all that was left was the blazing fire of neurons in your skin. He kept his other hand around your wrists, squeezing tighter as he bent down to pick up his belt off the floor. “I know you’re probably used to calling the shots in bed once you get comfortable with someone, but let me make something clear: that that’s not gonna fly here.” 

He took his time and wrapped the belt around your wrists before tugging hard and fastening the latch. Pulling back, he whipped your body upwards until you were standing on your own two feet again. He stood up next to you, his scent intoxicating as your body begged to be touched once more, only to be pushed down face first onto the bed. 

“Now, I don’t know what kind of pansy ass mother fuckers you were used to fucking before the apocalypse,” he started monologuing as he undid his pants. “But that shit’s over.”

“Now it’s just you and me…” He ran his hands up your calves, a guttural groan leaving his lips as he knelt down onto the rickety old mattress you called a bed. The hair on his legs brushed against yours as his palms smoothed over your knees and thighs, squeezing and pulling your muscles down toward him. 

“You’re gonna do what I say, huh?” He slid a hand between your folds, gently brushing over your more than ready sex as the tip of his cock teased right behind it. 

“Uh huh,” you exhaled, feeling his breath on your shoulder blade. “Whatever you say, Daddy.”

“Good!” You felt him smile against your skin, his whiskers scratching their way up your back and onto your neck. “That’s a good girl.”

You grinned at the praise and felt his hands move up your cheeks, spreading your juices between them until they reached the belt that bound your hands together. His cock slid between them, pressing into your clit instead of your entrance as you begged for mercy. He nipped at your neck as punishment, chuckling arrogantly as he bit your shoulder before giving in and finally pressing into you. 

Negan tightened his grip on your wrists, pulling you up into him like a cowboy on a bucking bronco. He slid into you so easily, so fast after all that teasing, that you’d forgotten how big he was. His length rammed against your cervix, forcing every breath from your lungs as the sound of skin on skin echoed in your ears. His hips slapped repeatedly against your raw and aching cheeks, bringing pain back into the mixture of all that pleasure.

“Shit, baby,” His thrusts became shorter and more erratic, the leather of his belt cutting into your wrists and nearly pulling your arms out of their sockets. “Fuck, baby I’m gonna come,” he grunted prematurely, pumping into you one last time. 

You felt him push forward as he spilled into you, groaning like a wild animal as his white hot liquid filled you up. His breath hitched as he spasmed and twitched, his moans turning into inaudible mumbles as he pressed his balls flush against your clit. 

The weight of his body nearly crushed you as he lay on top of your back, slowly turning on his side and letting go of your restraints. “Damn, that’s good pussy,” he uttered, running a hand down your spine and smacking your ass. 

Was that it? Was he just going to fuck you for two seconds and then leave you hanging? “Are you gonna…” you asked, nodding toward your hands and thighs. 

“Shit yeah, sorry.” He took in a deep breath and let it out, running his hands over your backside one more time before undoing his belt. “I gotta get these jeans to the laundry before we leave tomorrow.” 

“You’re not going to, I mean, I didn’t even…” you looked down between your legs, rubbing your thighs together rhythmically to give him a clue. 

“Oh I know, Princess.” His smile was prideful as he sat up on the bed and started putting his underwear back on. “You don’t get to come yet.” He stood up and slid his boxer briefs on over his hips. 

What did he just say?

“Don’t give me that look. You knew exactly what you were signing up for.” He found his pants and shoved his legs inside. “You can come when I say you can come.” He buttoned his pants and walked around the bed, leaning down in front of your face. “You can come after you help me find your brother, and not a second before. Is that understood?” He grabbed your chin and looked at you with wild and dark eyes. 

“Yessir,” you nodded. 

“Good!” He grinned and let go of your face, putting his belt back through his loops. “Meet me in front of my car tomorrow morning. I want you bright eyed and bushy tailed.”


	7. Chapter 7

The Kingdom was farther away than you’d expected; the bumpy car ride in Negan’s Charger lulling you to sleep as you rested your head against the sleek leather door. The previous night’s refusal had kept you awake as you did your best to keep your hands to yourself, burying yourself in medical books until the sun finally crept over the horizon. You were exhausted, welcoming this brief moment of rest as you let your eyelids fall to images of trees and abandoned buildings that sped past the car and into your dreams.

“Your brother is gonna lose his SHIT when he sees you in that!” Negan’s voice drew you from slumber, humming a tune as he glanced over at you from the driver’s seat. “I mean, goddamn, I shoulda put you in that thing a long time ago.”

“It’s only temporary, though, right?” You cut him off, pulling the fabric down to your knees. 

Negan bit his lip and looked back at the road, sucking in the hot summer air through his teeth as he pondered your question. “Probably,” he smirked, exhaling slowly. “It’s just for show, baby, but if you like it so much I just might let you keep it,” he chuckled, slowing the car down to half speed as he approached a small ghost town.

“I don’t,” you reassured him. “This thing isn’t very functional.”

“Functional?” Negan rose his eyebrows, taking one hand off the wheel before tracing the hem of your collar. “Sure it is.” His fingers sent butterflies into your stomach as they slid underneath the fabric, tickling your skin and rubbing your nipple between his fingertips. “It’s all kinds of functional.” He kept his eyes on the road as he twisted and pulled, sending little bolts of lightning into your chest as your skin played victim to his grasp. 

You leaned forward and rubbed your thighs together, providing friction for yourself as you leaned into him. Your heart skipped a beat as he pinched even harder, those bolts of lightning making your moisture more apparent in your short black dress. Maybe he’d put you out of your lustful misery and pull this car over, after all. If only you could just slide your hand over the top of his pants to get him hard...

He laughed and licked his lips, taking his hand out of your dress before slowing the car down to a complete stop. “Nice try baby, but you know the rules.” He winked at you and opened his car door, grasping Lucille by the handle. “We’re going to have a lot of fun with that later, but for now, it’s showtime!”

He walked you up to a group of people who looked like they were ready for the most intense laser tag game of their lives. If you had come across them under any other circumstances you would have greeted them with a smile and a wave, but today you were with Negan. Today you were in a dress. Today you were bait. 

“Negan, we weren’t expecting you in person.” A middle-aged man straightened his posture at the sight of him, walking toward you with a machine gun clutched close to his chest. He spoke firmly and without trepidation, keeping his gun pointed at the ground as he got closer. He must be their leader. 

“Richie Rich!” Negan bellowed, sauntering toward him. “Don’t get your panties in a twist just yet! Gavin’s still coming for your weekly offering, and I hope for your sake it’s up to par.” He patted the man’s arm. “He’s just a few minutes behind us, but that’s not why I’m here.” He leaned back so far you thought he might fall backward.

“What can we do for you, Negan?” The man’s icy blue irises expanded as he looked at your lover, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints as the grip on his weapon tightened.

“I’m glad you asked, Little Richard!” Negan stood up straight, pulling him in close. “I’m looking for some of my men. Men and women, to be exact, and Good Old Gregory over at Hilltop hasn’t seen them.” He took a breath and pointed at you. “Her brother took himself and two good workers away from the Sanctuary, and you guys are next on my list for where they might be hiding out.” He brought his lips to the man’s ear, his grin barely brushing its cartilage as he smiled into him. “Now, have you or anyone else in this group seen anyone new around these parts?”

Richard turned his head to face him, their lips almost touching. “No, I haven’t.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind escorting me and my little lady friend here through the Kingdom just to make sure, now would you?” He turned and winked at you as he clamped down hard on Richard’s shoulder. 

“That’s up to the King.” His voice began to falter, the fear taking over his vocal cords as they vibrated in his throat.

“Well then, take us to the King.”  
————————

Richard led you through rows of plentiful gardens, the air fresh with the aroma of lilacs as you passed by leaves of green and juicy fruits. Women and children sat outside freely, learning skills from painting to archery as smiles painted their young and jubilant faces. The Kingdom was made up of bricks and mortar just like the Sanctuary, but something here was drastically different. The air was clearer, the sun shone brighter, the colors more vibrant as you made your way through this utopian community.

“The king’s not expecting you.” A large Samoan man cautioned, a medieval battle axe in his hands.

“I know, Ben and Jerry, that’s the whole point.” Negan smirked and tilted his head, sizing up the giant man who stood guard to the king’s residence. “It’s kind of a surprise!” He leaned back with his last word, glancing over at you before pointing toward the double doors. “Jerry’s not too bright,” he whispered to you.

“I heard that,” Jerry muttered, turning around and opening the doors. “Come on,” he sighed. Jerry motioned for you to follow him, the metal of his axe reflecting the warm sunlight before disappearing into the cool darkness of what you soon discovered to be a theater.

A rush of cool air hit you, the smell of moth balls and patchouli reaching your nostrils as a few stray hairs fanned away from your forehead. The doors shut loudly behind you, encasing the four of you in the pleasant scent as the very bricks smelled far more pleasant than those of the Sanctuary. Another scent hit you as you stepped down the slanted aisle of the auditorium, bypassing Negan’s cologne that usually took over your senses completely. Was it wet dog, or a barn smell, or….

A thunderous roar echoed against the walls of the theatre, answering your unspoken question before you even had time to ask. A tiger. A tiger?! A tiger was in the room! What was a tiger doing in here?!

“Jerry! To what do I owe the pleasure?” A theatrical voice broke your concentration and brought your eyes forward, the bouquet of fragrances taking a backseat to the visual masterpiece in front of you.

Rows and rows of worn-down seats led you to a stage at the opposite end of the room, a medieval backdrop reminding you of your early days in community theatre. Judging by the cityscape, it had to have been from an old production of Camelot, complete with a throne and pedestal for it to set on. The man occupying the throne lounged on it nonchalantly, his chestnut skin glowing in the stage light as his dreadlocks cascaded down his shoulders. He smiled unapologetically, his dimples and crow’s feet exuding genuine joy as he looked over at the wild animal at the end of his chain. He was beautiful, in every essence of the word. 

“Zeke!” Negan bellowed, his voice drawing a defensive growl from the tiger as it paced in front of its owner. 

“Negan of the Sanctuary.” The man’s tone changed from theatrical to worried, his posture straightening in his seat. “I thought we had an agreement inside the Kingdom walls.” He leaned forward and glanced over at you, taking note of the bruises on your neck and wrists as his kind eyes warmed you. Maybe you looked more like your brother than you gave yourself credit for. Maybe Alex was actually here, after all.

“What, you don’t want to bring me home to mom and dad? Let them know you’re in bed with a white guy who takes half your shit?” He paused and looked over at you, grinning wide before looking back up at the King. “I mean, I know we have kind of a... friends with benefits situation going on here, but I’d like to think we’ve always been honest with each other.”

The King sighed, his eyes all but rolling back in his head as Negan continued with his graphic analogy. “We have,” was all he said in return.

“Good, your majesty. See, three of my people ran off in the middle of the night, and Gregory over at Hilltop hasn’t seen hide nor tail of ‘em. Now, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would ya?”

You stepped forward without even realizing it, your feet carrying you toward the man whose next few words held your family’s fate along with them. What he said next would determine if your brother lived or died, if your relationship with Negan continued, and if your father and sister had to keep worrying back at the Sanctuary. Had he seen them? Was he hiding them? Did he know anything about them at all? You squinted to watch his face as he answered the most important question of your life. 

“If my scouts found travelers, they would have brought them to me for review.” The King told your leader.

Damnit. You’d hoped Alex wouldn’t be here, but a part of you wanted to see his face again. 

“I want to believe that, Zeke, I really do.” Negan stepped closer to the stage, gripping Lucille tightly on his shoulder as the tiger began to square up. “You’ve never lied to me, at least I THINK you haven’t, but if for some reason I think you are, well…” He placed his free hand on a walkie talkie you didn’t even know was there. “All I gotta do is give my men the word and we’ll be all up in your shit like white on rice, ransacking this place until we find them.” He paused and unlatched the device from his belt loop, pressing the button to speak. “Dwighty Boy, you in position?” The static scratched over his last word, disappearing as soon as it had appeared.

“Yeah, boss,” Dwight’s nasally voice came over the radio. “You good?”

Negan’s smile brightened the room like a blinding red light. “I’m good.” He paused. “For now.” He nodded as if his lieutenant could see him, keeping his eyes on the King as he lowered the handheld back onto his hip. “I got my best cook, seamstress and strategist out there just walking around as bait for the dead while we sit here and talk. I know you don’t want to change our relationship status, and that makes two of us, but if I…”

“I wish I could help you, Negan,” the King began.

Without letting him finish, Negan grabbed the handle of Lucille with both hands and smashed it down onto the lacquered wood of the stage. “Then help me!” 

The tiger roared so loudly it echoed throughout the theater, putting a pressure on your eardrums you’d never felt before. It was deep and loud, shaking the lights above the King as it jiggled the very screws that held them together. 

“Shiva!” The King yelled, standing up and pulling the chain back towards him. “Shiva,” he whispered, walking up to the tiger to pet its head.

“I was nice enough to come in here without the rest of my men to follow YOUR rules, now, I didn’t have to do that. The least you could do is work with me.” Negan followed up, stepping away from the jungle cat. 

“Your actions are beyond generous, Negan the Red. Feel free to search the premises if it offers you peace of mind. Take what you need for sustenance, but I must ask you to be discrete.” He glanced over at you again. “We have great doctors if she needs medical attention.”

“She doesn’t need shit.” Negan stepped in front of you, blocking the King’s line of vision. “What she needs is her brother back, and I need my people back at the Sanctuary providing for me. If I’m not back before sunset, my people are gonna get real familiar with your people. Now I know you don’t want that to happen.”

“Of course not.” The King took a breath and pondered his options for a split second. “Richard and Jerry will be happy to show you around.”


	8. Chapter 8

The two men led you and Negan through the rest of the Kingdom, Richard’s tall and muscular frame leading you through the infirmary, school, marketplace and every homestead on the grounds as Jerry tagged close behind. He opened every closet, every cabinet door and looked under every bed to satisfy Negan’s nagging need to leave no rock unturned. 

You were beginning to wonder where your brother could have gone if he wasn’t here or at the Hilltop. Could he have looked after your mother and her failing health out there in the wilderness? You knew that’s why your family had chosen to stop at the Sanctuary in the first place; your mother just couldn’t cut it out there amongst the elements. If Richard didn’t help Negan find them, would he just accept that and move on, or was there already an expiration date on this man’s life, too?

You kept yourself silent for the rest of the search though, no matter how badly you wanted to scream their names or revisit old memories to help draw them from their supposed hiding places. Negan’s scintillating presence subdued you still, the fear of him denying you even longer made you no different than that tiger at the end of the King’s leash. You followed close behind as he kept his bat on his shoulder, the blunt instrument acting like a sundial until that burning star finally hit the amethyst horizon.   
—————————  
“Now we wait,” Negan grumbled as the two of you approached his car.

“Wait for what? That’s it? You’re just going to give up?” Your fear seemed to dwindle now that it was just the two of you.

“Give up?” he chuckled. “No way, baby, we’re not giving up. We’re giving them a little time to feel safe; let them feel like we let them go, and then when they leave, POW!” He hit an imaginary target with Lucille. “We’ll be right there to snatch them up!” He smiled at you as his grip on the bat relaxed. 

“Snatch them up and… take them back to the Sanctuary, right?” You placed your hand on the car for balance as the idea of Alex getting his face burnt off flooded your visual cortex. 

Negan smirked and leaned in close to you, his cologne the only pleasant smell now that you were far enough away from the Kingdom. “Well, that all depends on him.” He lifted a hand and gently brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. “Let’s not ask questions we don’t want to know the answers to, huh?” His eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, his teeth pulling at his bottom lip.

“The point is you were a good girl for me today.” He let go of your ear and traced his fingers down the outline of your figure, gently lifting the bottom hem of your dress. “I half thought you’d go off the rails if you saw someone who even looked like your nerdy ass brother, but you stayed right by my side the whole time!”

You wanted to nod, to verbalize an affirmation of his suspicions, but all you could do was stare. He was the only person who made you speechless, who literally took your breath away in almost every situation. The danger for your brother was near and very real, but not present just yet. What was that old saying… out of sight, out of mind? You’d rather live in this limbo of a reality, a reality where nothing from the past or future mattered; nothing but his hand on your thigh and his eyes on your lips. All your brain had room to process right now was the fire he always sparked inside it. 

He crept his fingers up a path on your thigh to the black lace panties he laid out for you this morning; feather-like touches peeling back the cloth from your warm and eager skin. “You look so fucking good in that dress, I almost forgot why we came here in the first place.” His voice rattled in your ears, signaling a chain reaction in your body as he slid his fingers between your lips. He smirked and teased your length as he backed you up against the car, forcing you to gasp.

“Yeah?” You barely whispered, the warmth of the car nearly singing the skin on your shoulders.

“Yeah, baby,” he reassured you, pressing his thumb against your clit. “You look so fucking good I could just eat you up.” He pushed his fingers in deeper, dropping Lucille behind him as he stepped in closer. “But I won’t.” 

He grabbed you by the base of your neck, forcing you to stare into his jealous burgundy gaze. “Because for a second back there I thought you had eyes for Bob Marley,” he paused, amusedly studying your face as he accused you. “I mean, he certainly showed an interest in you,” he growled. His knuckles pulled your hair so tight that the pain from your scalp overpowered the pleasure his fingers drew from your center. “It drove me fucking crazy seeing another man look at you like that.”

You couldn’t tell if this was a real emotion or just another tactic, but his fistful of your hair felt awfully real. You’d always assumed you’d be the one to get jealous with all the wives he had stowed away back home, not the other way around. That was part of the reason you’d avoided him for as long as you did, minding your business in the infirmary while he fucked whoever he wanted. You knew that it was you he wanted now, but at the end of the day you were just a means to an end.

“Maybe he just wasn’t used to seeing a woman in a dress,” you managed to counter, his grip on your scalp more stimulating than you’d care to admit. “Plus, this outfit wasn’t really part of the deal.”

“No,” he paused, his silent moment heavy with possibility, “But you know what was?” His lips spread slowly across perfect teeth, pressing a circle into your bud as your jaw dropped in ecstasy.

“What?” You mumbled, your body an excited bundle of nerves.

“Since you were such a good girl today… despite the King looking at you,” he tightened his fist in your hair, violently bringing you in for a hungry kiss. “You get to come.”

Your previous gasp turned into a moan as he kissed you, playing your swollen wet heat like keys on a classic piano. Different octaves and notes poured out of you as he moved his fingers deep inside, stimulating you like he never had before. It was if he was saving this style of pleasure for last, keeping it locked away in a cupboard to be used only in case of emergencies, and, oh! What an emergency this was! 

You blocked out everything else that had happened and let him play you like the instrument you were; wild grunts and groans echoing against the empty walls of the ghost town that surrounded you. Surrendering yourself completely to this tyrant of a man, you let him enter you as the strings of your spine vibrated with each chord his hips plucked into you. Waves of rhythmic pleasure bounded over you as your thighs clasped onto him for dear life, the chorus of breathy moans now a strange duet in the middle of nowhere. You had a feeling that this was it, the last time you’d bond with him on an equal and biblical level with your arms around his neck and your thighs a sweaty mess. 

You let him lean on top of you, the silence all but deafening after the impromptu concert you might have given a few nearby roaming walkers. His hair was a mess, his cheeks flush with passion and his grin wider than ever as he finally pulled out of you. He winked at you and zipped himself up, fiddling with the walkie talkie on his hip before pressing a button. 

“D’you get all that, Dwighty Boy?” He spoke into the radio as he collected his white hot liquid from between your legs.

“Yeah, Boss, loud and clear. Over.” Dwight replied sheepishly before static covered him up again.

Negan smiled and slid his semen-soaked fingers into your mouth, watching you suck hungrily as he pulled them out past your lips. “Good. And her family?” He found your panties around your ankles and slid them off your feet, smelling them deeply before placing them in his pocket. 

“We got ‘em, Boss. They heard everything, just like you wanted.”


	9. Chapter 9

Three hearts beating. Pumping, thumping and pulsing in time as they slowly lowered themselves to the ground. Three tribal drums composing a rhythm that would only increase as the man next to you approached them; only they weren’t the three instruments you’d expected to hear. Your brother and his wife were there, but the third person wasn’t your mother. Instead a young man took her place, his weathered face full of fear as he got down on his knees before you. Who was he? And where was she?

“Alexander the Great! Do you have ANY idea how much time and manpower you just cost me?” Negan started the show, walking past you without regard. 

“N...nno,” your brother stuttered, looking up at him with heavy lids. He was covered in dirt, the green in his hazel eyes sticking out more than ever against the earth that painted his skin. He looked like he had all those years ago on the road before you found the Sanctuary, his cheeks sunken in and clothes wrinkled with travel.

“Hmm,” Negan laughed, leaning back as he set Lucille on his shoulder. “I bet you don’t, because you only think about yourself these days, now don’t you?” He swung the bat off his shoulder, letting it dangle by his side in front of your brother’s face. “Do you mind telling me why there’s only two members of your family here when there was three of you that left? I mean, I know I’m not the best with numbers, but I can still see that the math just doesn’t add up!”

You held your breath as you waited for your brother to respond, to tell Negan that they had left her back at the Kingdom or maybe even back at the Sanctuary somehow. You waited for him to tell you that she was okay, that only the two of them were braving the elements after all.

“She got bit.” Alex confessed, giving you a solemn look.

What? What did he say? Did he just say she got bit? By a walker? Out there in the… no, no, no, no, she couldn’t have gotten bit. She wasn’t very fast, but she was always very cautious. With Alex and Bethany to look out for her, she surely would have been safe… right? Maybe Alex just lost her on the road and got confused when he was trying to escape. Maybe he had it all wrong.

“She got bit?!” Negan gasped, clutching his chest with his free hand to feign compassion. “There’s a surprise!” His laugh moved through the air like molasses, blanketing you in an emotional black tar. “Let me guess, you decided to take her to the Kingdom for some medical attention, huh?”

“The thought crossed my mind.” He was serious. She’d been bitten. Alex had taken her out there when he knew well enough she wasn’t used to being out there with the dead. Why would he let her do that? Why didn’t he make her stay behind? Why didn’t Bethany stop her?

“But you didn’t get there in time, did you?” Negan prodded.

Your brother shook his head, tears falling from his cheeks onto the dirt by his knees. “No. She’d already turned. She was too slow and got caught in the mud after the rain, and...” He couldn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t have to. “We were going to try for the Kingdom, but we saw all the trucks and tried to circle back and well, here we are.” He swallowed hard and gave you an apologetic smile.

“So, what you’re telling me, Alex, is that you got your mom killed because you couldn’t hang with the Saviors, is that it?”

Alex nodded.

“Huh.” Negan rolled his tongue along the inside of his mouth. “And now Tommy here’s roped into this. That doesn’t even count all the wasted resources I spent sending my men to Hilltop, Kingdom, and the Garbage People…”

The Garbage People?

“You almost ruined years of peaceful agreements we have with those communities because of your weak fucking stomach. Now, it only makes sense that someone pays me back for the lost time and resources we spent on this little outburst of yours, don’t you agree?”

Alex nodded, more tears welling up in his eyes.

“Good.” Negan started pacing in front of them, his bat hovering over each of their heads before stopping in front of the unfamiliar face. That must be Tommy. Negan paused and whistled quickly, motioning for Simon to bring someone out from the crowd. “Bring me his brother!”

His brother? You looked over to see Simon push Alden through Dave and D.J., a confused and angry look on his face as he stopped just beside you. Oh no, why was Alden here? Was he Tommy’s brother? Why didn’t he ever mention him before? Why hadn’t you ever met him? 

“Look familiar, Alvin?” Negan chuckled as Simon pushed Alden out in front of you, a hand on his arm and a gun to his head.

“It’s Alden,” your friend corrected him, immune to the fear contagion that infected the three people on their knees. 

“Alden, right,” Negan’s lips curled into a dangerous grin, the skin around his eyes wrinkling as it widened. “You got a weapon, Alden?” His tongue ran across his teeth, the tension of the moment fueling the fire of his charisma.

“Yes, sir.” Alden glanced over at you, a shared anguish weighing his eyes down in dark circles.

“Well?” Negan held out his hand, beckoning him with his fingers until Alden finally surrendered and unlatched his holster. “That’s right.” He smirked as Alden handed it over, his mirth all but consuming him as he watched the younger man place the firearm in his hand. “What is it?”

“A gun.” Alden swallowed hard as Negan stepped between his feet, forcing his jaw to clench and his legs to part.

“‘A gun’?” He repeated back mockingly. “I know that, asshole, what kind of gun is it?”

“It’s a ten millimeter Smith and Wesson revolver.” Alden’s fingers began to twitch as he stared into the abyss of Negan’s eyes, somehow staying upright as he leaned into him. 

“Good! It’s important that a man knows his weapon.” He paused and sucked in the night air through his teeth, clicking his tongue as his eyes darted over Alden’s boyish features. “Is it loaded? It feels loaded.” His eyebrows jumped up his forehead, glancing over at the three people on their knees. 

“Yeah, it is.” Alden answered, looking at the gun expectantly.

“Are you sure? A hundred percent?” Negan asked. “Let’s see.” He pulled back the hammer and pointed the gun at the third man, shooting him right in the head. He smiled and laughed as his body dropped forward, his skull exploding in shards of pink and red all over your brother’s face. 

“Tommy!” Alden screamed, attempting to run over to the dead man’s body. “Tommy, no!”

Negan stopped him with the same hand that held his gun. “Bet ya didn’t know it could do that, huh, Alvin?”

“You didn’t have to do that! He didn’t do anything wrong!” Alden pushed against Negan’s palm and his own revolver, tears streaming down his face as he stared at the man’s body. “You didn’t have to…”

“You see, Alden, that’s where you’re wrong!” Negan addressed the crowd, his voice bellowing loudly enough for everyone to hear. “I DID have to do that! Tommy DID do something wrong!” He tossed Alden’s gun to Dwight and continued walking down the line. “He had one job, and that job was to be the lookout between us and them, the Sanctuary and the Kingdom, and he failed that job like the sack of shit he is now!” He kicked Tommy’s stiff body. “He’s the one who let Alex run off in the middle of the night with my favorite chef!” He ran a hand over his beard and shook his head. “No more of those chocolate chip cookies we all love so much! Thanks to Tommy, here!”

“We snuck past him, he didn’t let us go!” Alex interjected, glaring at Negan.

“You snuck past him, huh? So you’re saying he was just really bad at his job? That he had one fucking job and he couldn’t even do that right, is that what you’re saying?”

“It was my fault. It was my idea. My mom found out and she wouldn't let us go alone.” Alex admitted.

“Your idea?” Negan knelt down in front of your brother, his leather jacket squeaking with movement as he held Lucille parallel with the ground. “You see what just happened to Tommy, there?”

“Yes.” Alex shivered in fear.

“That was nothing. He got off easy.” He spat on the ground. “What you did…” He grabbed Alex’s chin, squeezing his emaciated cheeks as he pulled him in close. “Was way worse. I mean, a part of me should be thanking you.” He ran his thumb over a cut on his bottom lip. “Instead of burning your dad’s face off, I’ve been taking my frustrations out on your sister’s pussy.”

“You leave her alone!” Alex barely muffled as he looked at you.

“Me?” Negan laughed. He pulled him in closer so that his center of gravity changed and he fell forward onto his hands. “That was you. All you. Every cut and bruise and scrape was just for you. Every minute of every hour of every day that you were gone she took it like a fucking champ to save your dad from the iron, and you wanna know the best part, Alex?” He paused for effect, glancing back at you for a second. “She loved every second of it. I mean, shit, you should have heard the noises coming out of her a few minutes ago. Oh, wait, that’s right!” He let go of his face and pushed him onto the ground, standing up with ease.

“You DID hear every noise that came out of those sexy little lips. I hope you enjoyed the show as much as I did! Bet you didn’t know your sister was such a goddamn freak, huh?”

Alex couldn’t even look at you after that, his scarlet eyes dripping in sorrow as he kept them on the villain before him. You knew he didn’t mean to cause all this trouble, that he only wanted to escape to a better life with his wife and your mom, but you also knew about the potential repercussions, and so did he. 

“Yeah, well, we’re all finding things out about each other we didn’t know before.” Negan swung his bat in a circle, walking around you and Alden before stopping back in front of your brother and his wife. 

“I’m sorry Negan, I’m so sorry,” your brother whispered, snot running down his nose as it mixed with his tears. 

“Your sorry?” Negan turned to look at you, a wild confidence filling his eyes before facing your brother again. “Not as sorry as you’re about to be.”

After that, what happened next was all a blur. You remembered falling down to the ground, your screams mixing in with the sound of Lucille crushing your brother’s skull once, twice, three times before his body finally fell over. You heard your sister in law cry out, the fear numbing her throat as nothing more than a whimper escaped her lips. You couldn’t look, couldn’t bring yourself to watch as Negan beat your brother to death with the same fervor he’d fucked you with on the hood of his car mere moments ago.

Your body shook on the ground as Tommy and Alex’s froze up, their blood pooling around them in perfect circles as you slowly opened your eyes to the horror show in front of you. Negan was talking again, his voice muffled by the pulsating blood as it swished through the veins in your ears like a washing machine. He swung Lucille for the last time, splashing blood all over your hands and arms before talking about ‘examples’ and ‘lessons’.

Brain-splattered boots appeared before you as his gloved hand lowered down to help you up. You didn’t want to take it, didn’t want to stand where you could see the consequences of your actions right in front of you, but you did. You let him help you up as Alden’s face hardened despite the tears that fell down his cheeks. 

Neither of your could speak, but neither of you needed to as Negan left you to mourn along with your sister who was now your only living family member there. You felt Alden’s hand softly rub your back, his palm warm and small as it rested between your shoulder blades to help keep you upright. This was as close to a funeral as you could get. Where three hearts were beating, there were two, now only one.


	10. Chapter 10

Hours of somber silence in the backseat of Negan’s car made you more exhausted than you‘d anticipated. The oxytocin from your orgasm lingered, mixing in with the fear, adrenaline and grief of the night’s events as it left you sick with attraction you couldn’t quite stifle. You wanted to hate him, to wish he was dead and never to see him again, but you couldn’t quite convince yourself to think any of those things.

You wanted to ask him a dozen questions that rattled around in your brain. Why did he kill Alex instead of giving him the Iron? Did something set him off or change his mind? Was it you? Was it Ezekiel? What would happen to the rest of your family now that Alex was gone? Was this all your fault? Did you do enough? Did you do too much? Above all else, you wanted to know if he still wanted you, and you hated yourself for wondering that.

The reality of their deaths hadn’t quite hit you yet, the numbness of grief still keeping you quiet as you walked down the hall, half expecting to see either of them waiting for you. It wasn’t until you finally arrived at your family’s quarters to deliver the news that your father screamed out a trail of expletives, throwing a lamp across the room before shoving into you with the brunt of his shoulder. He stormed out in a puffed-up silence, ignoring your intense need for compassion.

Your sister merely shook her head as tears fell silently down her face, embracing your sister in law as they both collapsed onto the floor. You stood there like a vacant vessel, a messenger they didn’t shoot as they embraced each other, wailing together like banshees as your body barely stood still. You were surrounded by family, yet all alone despite what you’d done to prevent that from happening. You needed some air, a drink, a cigarette or a shower, but you’d settle for just one of those right now.

You grabbed the bottle of whiskey your dad always kept in the cabinet for special occasions. It was half empty already, the label with the dancing devil on it almost completely peeled off as your fingerprints smudged the opaque glass container. You unscrewed the cap and took a swig, the red hot cinnamon burning into the cracks of your chapped lips as you made your way down the hall and out the front door. You didn’t drink very often, and you knew it would only take a few more sips before you started losing your senses. You didn’t want to mourn in front of the other Saviors, and you certainly didn’t want Negan finding out you’d taken to the bottle just yet.

Instead you found yourself climbing the outdoor staircase, one sip for each flight that you reached; a personal achievement if you took into account the high heels you were still sporting. The whiskey heated you up from the inside now, fiery alcohol seeping from your pores as you sweated your way up to the last flight of stairs. The wind was cool at the top of the building, blowing you this way and that as it made the pressure in your ears a thousand times worse. 

You hadn’t realized that you’d been crying this entire time, mascara-stained tears dripping onto your neck and chest as you reached the final platform. You did your best to wipe them off, sniffing your swollen sinuses as you walked over to the concrete ledge of the building. Your head was pounding, the fluid in your head not coming out your eyes fast enough before the bottle of whiskey fell from your hands. You watched as it fell seven stories down, shattering into a thousand pieces in a silent glittering picture.

“Hey,” Alden’s voice rang in your ears, seeming so loud yet so far away as he slowly approached you. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

You winced as his words swam through the fluid in your head, bouncing off the walls of your sinuses before increasing the already painful pressure your tears had created. How did he get there? Did he climb up the ladder on the other side of the building and walk all this way? Did he run up all those flights of stairs in the middle of the Sanctuary to… it didn’t matter. Nothing did. Not anymore. You just wanted some peace and quiet, and you couldn’t even get that all the way up here.

“I think we’ve been through enough, don’t you?” His boots displaced the gravel as he walked toward you, their deafening crunch forcing your eyes closed in an attempt to shut out any excess stimulation. Enough, enough, enough! You’d seen and heard enough!

Alden leaned forward and inched his fingertips over your knuckles, squeezing your palm with trembling determination. In your heart of hearts you knew he was trying to help, that he was just as upset as you were, and hell, maybe he came up here for the same reason you did. But you wanted to be alone, to be as physically alone as you felt, and he wasn’t helping any. 

“I don’t want to talk to anyone right now,” you admitted.

“I know you don’t,” he acknowledged your pain with a shaky lilt, “But maybe that’s why you should.” His voice was sweet like the summer air, its timbre a warm honey in the black tea of the Southern twilight. His eyes were just like yours as you turned to meet him, wet with tears as the moonlight masked his reddened sclera. He was more alone than you could ever be, yet here he was trying to help.

“I ruined everything.” Another tear fell from your cheek, landing on his hand as you finally squeezed it back.

“No, you didn’t,” Alden started, guiding you toward him with a flick of his wrist. “What happened tonight was terrible, but I can’t stand to lose anyone else, especially not you.” The corner of his mouth curled into a nervous smile as he forced a laugh.

“Why would it matter if you lost me? We’re not even that good of friends.” You wanted to distance yourself from him, to piss him off and make him leave.

“Sure we are.” He held your hand steadily, ignoring your poor attempt to push him away. “Remember that time when neither of us could sleep this winter? It was so cold, we both found ourselves huddling over the gas lantern in the middle of the library and we…” He licked his lips and laughed as he recalled the memory. “We read each other passages from Tolkien to keep each other awake?” He wrapped his arm around your waist. “Or that time when I had a sore throat and could barely speak, so you made Simon go out and find me a dry erase board while you gave me medicine to make me feel better?” 

“Yeah,” you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, letting him pick you up off the ledge like a dance scene from an old black and white movie. 

“Or that time when you saved that little girl by amputating her arm instead of just letting her go like Doctor Carson wanted?” The tears in his eyes seemed to dwindle down, the caramel in them shining through as he helped you stand up. “People need you here, whether you can see that now or not.”

“I guess.” You looked down at your feet, the high heels Negan gave you covered in dirt as you made your way across the roof. “My dad won’t even talk to me after I told him what happened. He probably thinks it’s all my fault, that I didn’t put out enough, or that Natalie would have...”

“Hey,” Alden whispered, placing both hands on your shoulders. “People grieve in different ways; they go through the stages in different orders.” He rubbed his thumb along the fine hair of your bicep, sending a warm and comforting shiver down your spine. “He loves you more than anything. Believe me, I know, he won’t shut up about his favorite daughter.”

“His favorite daughter?” Your brow furrowed. How could you be his favorite if he treated you the way he did? 

“He just needs some time,” he reassured you. “We all do.”

“I thought Alex had time, I thought my mom did…” you blinked a tear away and looked up at the moon. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” Alden dropped his head, shaking a few tears loose. “We just have to keep a part ourselves in all of this, no matter how hard it is. We have to keep going and hopefully someday we can be those people again.”

“What if I’m not that good person you think I am? What if I actually liked being with him, even though I knew… I knew what he would do?” You confessed.

“Well, then you’re safer than I thought.” He forced a wink and playfully nudged your shoulder, biting his bottom lip to hold back any more tears. “Look,” He took in a deep breath, glancing at you with that beautifully disarming face. “Negan doesn’t have to define you, just like the Saviors don’t have to define me.”

“Maybe not.” You sniffed and looked up at him.

“Just keep that person alive in there, no matter how bad it gets.” Alden let go of your shoulders and ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair, letting out the heaviest of sighs. “Simon said they’re assigning me to one of the outposts tomorrow, so, I won’t see you again after this.”

“Alden, they can’t…”

“They can, and they did,” he sighed, “Just survive for me somehow, alright?” He leaned in and kissed your cheek. “Promise?”

“Promise.”


	11. Chapter 11

Mary’s leg was red and painful as you ran your palm slowly down her shin, nearly dwarfing the size of her other leg. You took care to press gently, measuring the amount of swelling that had caused her to stay home from work that day. 

“Did you fall or injure yourself in any way?” You asked, looking up at her from your crouched position at her feet. “Any cuts, scrapes of bruises? It could be something minor that opened a pathway to infection.” You hoped that it was something as simple as cellulitis, but your gut told you otherwise.

“No, honey, I just sit at the shop all day. But this morning when I got up out of bed, it hurt to even move it.” She told you, leaning forward to touch her calf.

You kept your eyes down as you feared the worst, feeling for a pedal pulse which was barely palpable. “Have you had any trouble breathing? Any chest tightness or heaviness?” You remembered all of the patients like Mary you treated at the hospital before the world stopped turning; people who were lazy, people who were active, the young and the old. It didn’t matter then and it didn’t matter now, disease was an unbiased son of a bitch. 

“No, none of that, sweetie.” She leaned back in her chair and patted her chest, thrumming a small rhythm onto her skin. 

“I’m gonna have Doctor Carson start you on Eliquis tonight,” you explained. “It’s a blood thinner and will help get rid of that clot I think you have in your leg.” You paused, smiling as you looked into her tired and weary eyes. “In the meantime I’m gonna need you to take it easy for a few days, okay? No more half marathons.” You winked at her and stood up, dusting the dirt off your knees.

You often had to resign yourself to defeat in the apocalypse, coming to terms with the half lives and expiration dates of critical medications. In the old world you would have given her a Heparin drip, ordered an ultrasound of the veins in her legs and drawn labs to check her clotting time until she was stable. But this wasn’t the old world, now, was it? This was the Sanctuary, and Eliquis was all you had. 

“Thank you, dear,” Mary’s hands clasped around yours, her many rings brushing against the dry skin on your palms. 

“You’re welcome.” You smiled at Mary’s gratitude, the one thing that brought you joy in the past couple of days, and walked out of her room. 

You pulled the notepad out of your jacket and wrote down her information: Mary Jackson, 67F, DVT LLE, Eliquis QID. You grinned to yourself as you entered the common area, putting your notepad back in your pocket as you were finally able to go half the day without thinking about your brother. No more tears to blur your vision, no more fatigue to keep you in bed, no more anger to make you strike out at your peers. You were practically yourself again.

You walked past Mary’s usual market stand that was now run by her husband, Jim, and gave him a quick little wave. He waved back slowly, his NASCAR hat unable to hide the joy in his eyes when he saw you. 

“How’s she doing, Doc?”

“Damnit Jim, I’m a nurse, not a doctor.” You stopped in front of his table, waiting for the joke to register on his face before frowning as he failed to get your Star Trek reference. You shrugged it off and looked over his merchandise before spotting a tiny porcelain tiger. 

“Well, you’re the best we’ve got, and certainly a lot better than Dr. Personality over there.” He nodded toward the infirmary. 

“Every doctor needs their nurse!” You reassured him, not ready to badmouth your colleague. “Mary most likely has a blood clot in her leg. I didn’t see any cuts or scrapes indicating cellulitis, so I’m gonna start her on a blood thinner tonight; break that sucker up and have her back to work in no time.”

Jim took in a deep breath. “A blood clot? Is it serious?”

You opened your mouth to answer him but stopped as an eerie whistle sounded, wrenching Jim’s wrinkled face into shock. His brown eyes darted past you, following a slowly moving object before kneeling down onto his knees behind his station. The whistle only got louder, Negan’s voice freezing you in place as everyone else in the room followed suit. Jim looked at you with caution, pointing to Negan with his eyebrows before you eventually decided to turn around.

“On your knees, Princess.” Negan seemed taller than you remembered, growing in height as you lowered yourself to the ground. “Word on the street’s you’ve been getting your hands dirty, making house calls, being a real Mother Teresa type.” Negan waltzed up to you, lifting your chin with the tip of Lucille. 

It was true that you were burying yourself in your work, trying to take your mind off the eternity of grey each morning brought as you did your best to find some color in the Sanctuary. You strived to be that good person Alden saw in you, but it didn’t matter how many people you helped, you still couldn’t quite shake the darkness inside.

“Yeah?” You tried to ignore the proximity of the weapon that bashed your brother’s brains in a few weeks ago. “Did you come here to canonize me into sainthood?”

Negan turned his head as he tried to register what you said, laughing instead of asking exactly what you meant. “Not really.”

“What do you want, then?” You asked, the tip of Lucille tilting your chin upward. 

“I wanna talk,” he started. He lowered his bat down to your neck, tracing the outline of your clavicle as it’s barbs scratched little white lines into your skin. 

“Then talk.” You stood up against his bat, crossing your arms over your chest as you rose to your feet.

“Huh,” he chuckled at your audacity. “I’d rather have a private conversation.” He dropped Lucille to his side and leaned in close, the heat from his breath setting your skin on fire. “That is, unless you want everyone else here to watch just how saintly you are.”

“No,” you answered, looking back at Jim and his porcelain tiger. “Private is fine.”  
—————————

Negan’s room was just as luxurious as you remembered it, the giant bed spurring memories that blocked out the painful ones you kept reliving every night. You were nowhere near ready to be alone with him in such a small room, to look at his handsome face and smell the cologne on his neck, but here you were. 

You followed him here against your better judgement, knowing full well what he intended to ask you without knowing if you had the conviction to stand your ground. Perhaps you were just tired of mourning, of seeing your brother’s ghost in the hallway and your mother’s in the kitchen. That ache he’d placed in your heart never quite outweighed the ache he’d placed between your legs.

“You want a drink?” Negan got comfortable after closing the door behind him, setting Lucille down and shrugging out of his leather jacket. 

God, yes. You wanted a drink more than anything. You wanted to taste that warm whiskey and forget everything that had happened; to let it pulse through your veins and push you into his arms even though you knew it was the last thing you needed right now.

“Yeah,” you decided out loud. “Yeah, I’ll take that drink.” 

“Good.” Negan walked over to the bar and got two glasses from the top shelf, pouring an amber liquid into each of them. “Now I know what I did was kind of fucked up and everything, but I just gotta ask,” he trailed off, collecting the glasses in his hands before turning to face you. ”Are you still pissed at me?”

Was he kidding? How could you not be? He murdered your brother right in front of you, and now he was acting like nothing had happened? Like he was innocent? Like you should be grateful? If he was anyone else in the world you might tell him all of that, but he was Negan, and so were you. You had to choose your words carefully.

“Maybe,” you whispered, taking the glass from him.

“Maybe,” his voice was as smooth as the whiskey going down your throat. “Maybe not.” His hazel eyes glowed in the pink of the summer sunset. You hated how beautiful he was, how sinfully stunning his mere presence was as you actively tried to despise him.

“I should hate you… for what you did,” you braved, staring at his frustratingly pleasing form.

“Yeah,” he smiled and took a sip. “Yeah you should.” He stepped toward you, his quickening proximity sending a rush of heat between your thighs. “But you don’t.” The look on his face was more than victorious, the wrinkles around his eyes telling you that he knew things would turn out this way, no matter how badly he hurt you. 

“You wanted to talk…” you began, refusing to respond to his taunt. “Let’s talk.” You felt the heat spread throughout your body as he advanced on you, taking a step backward until you found yourself seated on his bed. 

Negan bit his lower lip as he watched you rest on his mattress, eyes dancing over you while his hand slithered over the top of your thigh. “I was thinking we could do more that…”

“I thought this was over,” you tested him, taking a sip and lowering your glass.

“I wanted to give you time to get back on your feet.” His hand traveled inward, fingertips brushing against the denim that contained your needy sex. “I’m a stand-up guy like that.” He winked and finished his drink, setting it down on the nightstand next to Lucille. 

“Plus, Rick the prick took a little longer to break in than I imagined.” He squeezed your thigh and tipped the bottom of your glass upwards, smirking as you reluctantly chugged the rest of the liquid down your throat. “Good girl.” He purred, taking your empty glass and setting in down next to his. 

“He did, huh?” You’d heard about the new community Negan found and how they massacred an entire Savior outpost in one night. You didn’t know much about who they were or where they came from, but you did know that Negan made it pretty clear they were messing with the wrong people. 

“Yeah, but I’m not here to talk about that.” He smoothed a strand of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “After everything that’s happened, I just wanna make sure you’re still who I think you are.” 

He smiled and snaked his hand up the front of your shirt, sliding your stethoscope off your neck and setting it down beside him. Grinning like a kid in a candy store, he pushed up into your shoulders, grazing his calloused hands over your arms before taking the sleeves of your work jacket with them. You took in a deep breath and let him undress you like you always did, pushing the memory of your brother out of your mind as he stood you up and took off the rest of your clothes. 

Instead of forcing you onto the bed in some demeaning position, Negan took your face in his hands. He stared at you endlessly, those hazel eyes turning an electric gold in the warming sunlight before gently kissing your lips. Well, that was new.

“I’m Negan,” you whispered into his mouth, hoping that was what he wanted to hear. The taste of the whiskey heightened your senses as his tongue brushed against yours, sending little jolts of pleasure into your brain. “I’m still Negan,” you reassured him.

“Good.” He pushed you onto your back, feathering his fingers up your thighs until they reached the junction between your legs. “That’s what I thought.” The smile that graced his lips was purely demonic, baring sharp teeth as he lowered them to your pelvis to finally take a bite.

You hissed as he wantonly feasted on your flesh, writhing beneath him as his mouth made that deadly concoction of pain and pleasure you loved so much. You watched him lick the moisture between your folds, bringing his tongue up on your clit like a cat giving itself a bath. His eyes darkened as he took you in, watching your face change with each lick, each lap of arousal coating his generous and eager tongue. 

You let yourself leave the present time and place, closing your eyes and focusing only on how he made you feel. Warm wet strips of delight excited your juicy center as his whiskers brushed against your thigh. You never imagined you’d feel this good again, every pulsing inch of your heat begging for more as he sucked and tugged on your raw flesh. He hummed a deep tune into your body, vibrating your very bones in a song as if you were his favorite wind instrument. 

Knuckles white against his scalp, you rolled your hips into him, guiding his hungry mouth exactly where you wanted as you felt your thighs begin to quake. Those feelings of anger and doubt all washed away as a heavy tidal wave of bliss crashed over you, forcing your back to curve and flatten like waves upon the ocean. Every swear word you had in your arsenal left your lips as you came, the ebb and flow of your orgasm giving you an excuse to use the language you wanted to shout at him for the longest time. 

Your eyes fluttered open as he pulled his mouth away, lips and beard wet with your juices as he began undoing his pants. Part of you wanted to deny him, to put your foot on his chest and keep him at bay, but you were too tired. Too tired of consciously avoiding him, of being strong for your family and burying your feelings of grief. Instead you sat up on your elbows, watching him undress in the heavy lavender of dusk as his clothes finally hit the floor.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, welcoming him back as he pressed into you without ceremony. Your walls stretched and adjusted to his girth, your time away from him erasing that muscle memory as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. More waves built up as his body pushed and pulled, hitting those bruises he’d placed with his mouth as a tsunami of pleasure built up inside you. 

He grunted and groaned as he tasted your neck, recklessly thrusting until either of you could take it any longer. His eyes shut as he came inside you, biting your throat as he pushed himself up to the hilt, filling you up with all he had. His hips crashed into yours with that final wave, his white hot liquid spilling inside you as he held you close, twitching and spasming with his final efforts.

You’d never admit it, but you didn’t want to let him go. You wished you could stay here like this forever, with him deep inside you as your sweat mixed with his in the most primal of ways. If you didn’t think about it, it was like there was no one else that mattered but the two of you. No one else in the world. 

You kissed his forehead as he leaned into you, the sweat from his brow coating your lips as he slowly pulled out and collapsed on the bed. 

“Shit, doll,” he mumbled, “You must have really missed me.” He kissed your clavicle and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling as he tried to collect himself.

“I could say the same thing about you,” you countered, teeth still chattering from your orgasm. “For a minute there, I thought you were going to ask me to be your wife.” You couldn't stand the suspense any longer.

“Are you shittin’ me? And ruin what we’ve got goin’ here?” He chuckled and ran a hand down your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its path. “I got a better job for you, something I think you’ll like a lot more than being locked away with a bunch of broads.”

You turned your head to look at him, wondering what on earth he could be talking about. “A different job than being a nurse?” For once in your life, you wanted to know what was going on in that head of his.

“Sorta,” he paused. “Rick’s group got me thinkin’... maybe we don’t have as tight a hold on our communities as we thought.” He bit your shoulder and turned you on your side, taking time to rub the sore muscles in your back. “I’m gonna send you to the Kingdom to do a little recon for me.”

“Recon?” What did he just say? The Kingdom? Send you there? Didn’t he want you here? Wasn’t that why he lured you up here, so he could… You closed your eyes as your stomach wretched in disappointment, the acid bubbling over the top and into your throat. “I’m not a Savior, Negan, I have no business being a spy,” you protested.

“I know.” He kissed your neck, tugging on your skin with his teeth before sliding his tongue gently over it. You were still sensitive as he sucked the new bruise into your flesh, tiny little neurons firing the last of what they had into your system.

“I don’t understand,” you whispered between moans. It dawned on you now why he wanted to get you into bed so quickly; you couldn’t say no to him while you were naked in his arms riding the high of an orgasm. He never had any intention of asking you to be his wife at all, did he?

“I just couldn’t shake how Zeke looked at you when we were over there. I mean, not that I can blame him,” he explained, grabbing your breasts and pulling you into him. 

You gasped at the sudden contact, instinctually writhing your exhausted body into his. “I don’t think…” 

“No, you wouldn’t. Which is why you need to be over there. No one will suspect a nurse.” He paused. “Rick the prick didn’t get his information out of nowhere, and I need to know which community’s to blame.” He smoothed his hand down your body, overworking your pleasure center as he curved it around your hips. 

“We’ll drop you off, make it look like you’re some kind of traveler,” he whispered, cupping your ass and spreading your cheeks. “And then every week during their offering I get to eat that pussy until I’m not hungry anymore.” He slid his fingers up between your thighs, still wet with your arousal. “Pull all that sensitive information out of that big ole brain of yours.”

“I uh… oh my God, Negan…” You couldn’t help but rock into him, relishing the sensation of his fingers as they entered you again. “What if I say no?” The question was more for yourself, but you decided to let him hear it, too. 

“Do this for me baby, and I won’t have to harm a single hair on your dad or sister’s head ever again.”


	12. Chapter 12

The road ahead was long, heat rising off the pavement in waves before disappearing into a lush green border of trees that stood on each side. It went on like that forever, dipping down into rolling hills as the translucent waves turned into mirages of puddles in each valley that disappeared as soon as you reached them. The sudden image of water reminded you of just how thirsty you were, the summer sun sucking all the moisture from your body into tiny droplets of sweat on your forehead.

You wiped your brow with the back of your hand, running it through hair that Laura had cut short for you earlier this morning. She’d told you that you needed to be unrecognizable from before, just in case anyone at the Kingdom remembered who you were.

She took the clothes off your back and replaced them with bigger ones, giving you the look of someone who had been starving on the road for a considerable amount of time. She took the polish off your toes, the earrings from your ears and the metal Rolex off your wrist. Instead she replaced them with a worn-down watch, a knife, a lighter, and a canteen full of water. She did all this before going over your backstory and fake name, making sure you remembered what Negan told you to do.

“The Kingdom’s six miles down that road,” she’d said before slowing the car to a complete stop. “Take a right at Glenn Avenue and you’ll see the ghost town a few yards in.” She paused, squinting as the sunlight blurred her vision through the windshield. “Look, I know this sucks, but I’ll keep an eye on your dad and sis for you, make sure they stay out of trouble.” She kept her eyes forward as you visibly saw her cut ties with you emotionally. 

You wondered for a second what she did before all this, regretting not asking her when tensions weren’t so high. You could see her as someone like a prison guard or maybe even a soldier in one of the military branches, but you decided it was better not to know. If she was distancing herself from you, well, then, you could do the same thing back.

“Yeah,” you answered, leaning down in the passenger seat to grab your backpack. “I appreciate that.” You tried not to show how disappointed you were that Negan couldn’t drive you all the way out here himself. If it had to be anyone else, though, you guessed Laura was the next best choice.

You came back to the present and let your hand fall down to your canteen, unlatching it from its container on your belt. You kept walking forward as you slowly unscrewed the top, keeping your eyes peeled for a street sign named Glenn. Even though you were pissed at Negan, it didn’t change the fact that he still had your family at his disposal, or that you secretly still wanted to please him. 

When Laura dropped you off, you felt like a wounded animal being brought out to pasture, a useless creature sent away before your master shopped around for a newer better version of you. That dark feeling started to take root in your chest, but you didn’t let it take hold. You kept your head up and refused to be that gimpy dog kicked out on the side of the road. This journey was going to make you stronger, sharpen your fighting skills and survival tactics while your master was away. You had to reach your destination no matter what; if not for him, then you definitely had to do it for your family.

You brought the canteen up to your mouth, taking the first swig in an hour since you’d hit the road. It was still cool as it hit your coffee-stained lips, washing over your teeth and tongue as you swished it around and swallowed it down. You never regretted taking the running water in the Sanctuary for granted until now; all those times you used the toilet, washed your hands, took a shower or even drank several glasses of water without even thinking about it… what a selfish bitch you used to be.

The sticky Virginia heat brushed past you in a long-awaited breeze, moving the leaves on their branches to the left in a calm and soothing wave, almost as if the sky itself were an ocean full of currents and undertows. You took another sip to cool yourself down, closing your eyes as the breeze brought fresh air around you. Ahh, you thought, spreading your arms out wide like a scarecrow, this is the good stuff. 

The sound of the leaves rustling up above was interrupted by hoarse wheezes down below, forcing your eyes to open. You saw what you hadn’t seen in years, what Negan had ‘saved’ you from all those years ago when he brought your family to the Sanctuary. Half-dead bodies crept out of the green forest, their limbs dangling by sinews and tendons as they attempted to climb up the small hill onto the road. Their wheezes got louder as they saw you, mouths opening wide in anticipation of a fresh meal that they hadn’t had since God knows when. 

“Oh, shit,” you whispered, putting your canteen back in its container. You hadn’t killed a deadbeat in gosh, three years… had it really been that long? You remembered celebrating three Christmases with your family behind concrete walls, so, yeah, it had to have been that long. 

You pulled the knife that Laura gave you out of its holster, the handle a little different than the one you had before, and tightened your grip. “Go for the head,” you coached yourself, “Go for the head.” 

You spread your legs to broaden your center of gravity as the first one approached you. Its guts were spilling out of its abdomen, dangling down below its knees as it came toward you with a hungry yawn. Arms outstretched in a coarse and desperate scream, it tried to grab hold of you, but you dodged its grasp. You ducked to the right and rammed your blade into the side of its skull, destroying what little brain it had left. You heard the last of its screams as it stopped moving and finally fell to the ground. Phew! So that’s what that felt like; you’d almost forgotten!

You felt your heart begin to race as you took out the next one, feeling good as you ended the ‘lives’ of the undead. One, two, three fell down on the pavement as you got quicker with your technique, getting used to the weight and feel of your new knife. You wasted a few more as you pushed through them on your path to the Kingdom, stopping as you saw one in particular that looked familiar. 

This deadbeat happened to be a woman of middle age, her eyes gray and blue as the veins surrounding them burned jet black. She was slower than the rest, waddling toward you with caution as she wore the face of your mother. Her hands grasped at the air in front of her; your mother’s wedding band glistening in the sunlight on her finger. Oh no, no, no, no. No, it couldn’t be. Your brother would have… wouldn’t he? Alex had to have taken her down when she turned, he couldn’t risk her turning and then… Wait a minute, did he just leave her here to die by herself? Was she all alone in her final moments? 

The sound of hissing screams tore you out of your hypothetical list of ‘what if’s. Your mother, or what was left of her anyways, had a giant staff lanced through her head. You blinked dumbly as her blood splattered across your face, those blue eyes closing forever before the staff caused her body to slump onto the floor. 

You stared at the blank space in front of you, where she stood before any questions of your mother’s fate were left unanswered. You wanted to say thank you like a normal person, but felt yourself unable to speak. You turned to find that the man who saved your life was just around your father’s age, pulling his staff up and out of your mother as he brought it to his side.

“You know her?” He pulled a rag out of his pocket and began wiping off his weapon.

“She was m...mmm...mmmy...mmmmy,” you stammered, looking back down at her. “She was my mom.” A tear fell down your cheek, and for the first time in your life you weren’t afraid to show such emotion. 

“I’m sorry.” The man spun his stick in a skillful circle and planted it firmly between his feet. “I know how hard it can be to put down a loved one.” He placed both hands on top of the staff and leaned slightly forward. 

You forced a smile and bent down next to your mother’s corpse, looking at her one last time. You noted the bedazzled shirt she had on, the loosely sewn-in sequins shining a colorful rainbow onto your skin as you leaned in closer. She always loved to be flashy, even when the deadbeats were chasing her down the road. 

You laughed to yourself and took the ring off her finger, necrotic flesh and blood coming off the bone. The smell of her rotting body finally got to you once the adrenaline of the kill had worn off; gastric contents and mucus mixing together in a sickening stench that only worsened in the rising heat. You swallowed down your breakfast as it threatened to travel up your throat and into your mouth, wiping the remnants of your mother’s jewelry onto your shoe before placing it in your pocket.

“I’m Morgan, by the way.” He offered, waiting patiently as you took your time to stand up. 

“I’m Maria,” you muttered, the first of many lies you’d have to tell on this journey. The name sounded extremely foreign coming out of your mouth. Maria, Maria, Maria, you chanted in your head. My name is Maria.

“Where you headed, Maria?” His squinted eyes widened as he turned to you, the scalding afternoon sun beating down on his nearly bald head. 

“Nowhere in particular,” you lied again. “You?”

Morgan laughed under his breath, picking his staff up off the ground before stepping forward. “Nowhere in particular. You part of a group?” He cocked an eyebrow upward, his suspicions rising with it. 

“I was… well, she was and my brother was…we were...” The fear that this man may have been planted by Negan overruled your innate desire to trust him. 

“Just them?” he prodded.

“Just them.” You looked at your boots as you continued to walk, each stride getting wider with each step. “How about you? You part of a group?”

“I was.” He stared off into the distance. “Didn’t work out.”

The two of you walked alone together in respective silence after that. You kept your hands on your weapons, offering each other food and water every hour or so until you finally reached Glenn Avenue. You stared at the placard as it drew closer, white letters on green looming over you like a warning sign as you thought of a reasonable excuse to turn right. 

Morgan signaled to you as the sound of hooves interrupted your paranoid thoughts. He twirled his staff around himself in a protective barrier, readying himself for action as the sound grew louder. Luckily for you and your lying quota for the day, the sound was coming from down Glenn Avenue. You let out a sigh of relief and took out your weapon, feigning surprise and readiness as the sound of screams quickly accompanied the sound of hooves on the road.

“You hear that?” He whispered, glancing at you. “Someone’s in trouble.” Without a second thought Morgan sprinted off down the road, approaching two men on horses as a small group of deadbeats started to attack.


	13. Chapter 13

Morgan ran to those men on horses as they tried their best to fend off the undead, more of them coming out from behind corners of abandoned buildings. He sprinted much faster than you, his legs pumping his feet into the dirt before you could even start moving yours. You kicked yourself for staying inside the Sanctuary all those years without trying to keep in shape. Maybe you could have jogged around the perimeter every morning or lifted weights with Laura, but that time had come and gone, and you had to act fast. 

You took off behind your new friend, pulling your knife out as the screaming wheezes started echoing in your ears. Out of breath, you shoved your knife through a deadbeat’s skull, watching Morgan obliterate a few of them with ease out of the corner of your eye. Man, he was really good at fighting, and you were just… okay. 

You kicked one of them onto the ground, giving you space to take out one that almost took a bite out of Morgan’s shoulder. You pulled your knife out of it and felt your arms start to ache, the repetitive use of your weapon making your muscles scream for rest. Only you couldn’t stop, couldn’t pause to rub your sore biceps before bending down and ending the deadbeat you’d kicked down a second ago. Man, living on the road was hard work.

The nervous neighs of the horses quieted down as the last of the undead were laid to waste by Morgan’s staff and the other two men’s swords. You could feel your heart beating wildly in your chest, drumming heavily against your ribs as you looked at the three other people left breathing. You looked at Morgan who glanced around the perimeter, surveying it for any more stragglers while he twirled his stick around again like a ninja turtle. He looked at you and nodded, thanking you for saving him before looking up at the mounted men on horseback. 

“Thanks,” one of them started, “Those wasted came out of nowhere!” He looked at Morgan alone, and rightfully so.

“Yeah, they do that,” Morgan grinned, more to shield his eyes from the sun than to show a pleasant facade.

“Are you guys out here all by yourselves?” One of them asked, finally making eye contact with you. 

“It’s just us,” you answered, wiping more sweat off your brow. You paused and tried to slow your breathing, hoping to disguise just how out of breath you actually were. You holstered your knife and looked at Morgan. “We were just walking when we heard the horses,” you pointed toward the turn in the road where you came from, trying to make your story more visual. 

“Well, we thank you kindly, both of you. I’m Daniel and this is Jackson.” The one with dark hair pointed to his fair-haired friend. “We have a place you can stay for the night, get a home cooked meal if you want.”

Morgan stepped in front of you, eyeing the young man suspiciously. 

“No, not like that, I mean,” he cleared his throat. “We’re from a larger community with other women and children too. She’ll be safe there, you both will.” Daniel looked at Morgan like every man did at your father after shooting your sister a wandering eye. 

Was Morgan actually defending your honor from these people he barely knew but was so eager to save? If only he knew the sick shit you were up to at the Sanctuary, maybe then he’d realize that you didn’t have any honor left to defend. 

“A home-cooked meal sounds nice.” You placed your hand on Morgan’s shoulder, softly pushing him to the side as you spoke for yourself. “We’ve been on the road for a while now.” You gave him a silent nod of approval, wishing you could tell him what you knew about the Kingdom to ease his mind. 

“Yeah,” he finally agreed. “If it’s not too much trouble.” He kept his eyes on you, pupils shrinking in scrutiny. “We are a little hungry.”

———————————-

Your trip through the Kingdom was just as beautiful as your first, only this time you didn’t have Negan or the threat of your brother’s life looming over your head as you took in all the sights and sounds. The lilacs were still in bloom, the apples still ripe on the trees, and the children still laughing as they played. If you hadn’t seen it all before, you would have sworn you wouldn’t believe this place actually existed, but you were here in one piece thanks to this strange man and his stick. 

You watched him take everything in, disbelief and wonderment constantly battling for dominance over his dark and worn features. Daniel and Jackson were now on foot as they showed you around the premises, giving you both fresh fruit in exchange for your weapons until further notice. You weren’t really comfortable with this practice, but Morgan seemed to hand his staff over quite willingly, a sort of peace washing over him as he did so. You furrowed your brow as you watched him surrender, not quite sure what kind of man he was just yet. If you could tell anything about him, though, it was that you wanted him on your side.

You turned your head to find a woman in a hijab tending to strawberries in the garden, her mocha skin glowing in the sunlight as she collected the bright red fruit into a little green basket. She nodded at you and offered you one, seeing you had already finished the nectarine Daniel had given you. 

“Thank you.” You held her hand as she planted the fruit in your palm, feeling her rough and honest fingertips slip over yours. 

“The King is just up this way,” Daniel said, pulling you away from your potential new friend. 

“The King?” Morgan scoffed, looking at you while you devoured your strawberry.

“Elvis?” You decided to play along, realizing you’d gone a little overboard after the word had already left your mouth. 

“King Ezekiel rules the Kingdom. He’s a fair and just leader, and he’ll decide if you stay or go.” Daniel turned toward the two of you, walking backwards as he spoke. He smiled and waved to the other villagers as he did so, picking a blueberry out of a basket before turning around the face the theater. The theater! Finally! 

You sucked in a deep breath as you prepared yourself to see him again, the majestic man on the throne accompanied only by his ferocious tiger, Shiva. But wait, wouldn’t he recognize you? Would he immediately cast you out? Would you be able to follow through with Negan’s orders if he didn’t? 

You felt your arms and legs begin to shake, to quiver in fear of being found out as Daniel opened the heavy doors to the theater. Self- doubt crept over you like a heavy cloud full of acid rain, thundering only in your heart and in your mind. You wanted to run, to go back on the road with Morgan fighting deadbeats until you reached another city or state. You wanted to keep going until there was nothing left but the beach and the ocean, but the door was already open. 

“Hey,” Morgan placed a calming hand on your shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.” He smiled and nodded toward the open doors, gently guiding you into the slightly cooler building.

You took in a deep breath, letting it out as you returned his smile and entered the place you had to pretend was new. The smell of it brought you back to weeks ago and your younger years. Every theater, just like every church, had a similar and comforting smell to it. Maybe it was the wood on the stage itself, or the fabric of the chairs and curtains as they mixed together… whatever it was, it felt like home. You couldn’t let that fool you, though, no matter how wonderful this place made you feel, you had to stay focused. 

“Daniel! Jackson! Who do we have with us today?” The King’s voice interrupted your thoughts as Shiva roared in your direction, that thunder of self-doubt drowned out by the thunder of the tiger’s lungs. 

“Your majesty, this is Maria and Morgan. They saved our lives on the road while we were out on patrol.” Daniel walked briskly in front of you, stopping directly in front of the King’s throne. “These are their weapons.”

You stepped behind Morgan as you watched the King examine the tools presented to him, trying not to make it too obvious that you were hiding from his line of sight. 

“What are you doing?” Morgan whispered to you between gritted teeth.

“I’m,” you scrambled, “Afraid of tigers.”

“Morgan! Maria! Welcome to the Kingdom! I am King Ezekiel.” The King outstretched his arms from the throne, smiling wide with those beautiful white teeth of his. “Come! Let me lay eyes on those who have saved my brethren from the wasted when you need not be bothered to wander off the beaten path.” He let his arms fall to his side, gently resting on the throne.

Morgan looked at you, surprised by the King’s words as you did your best to act like you’d never experienced them before. “We did what anyone would have done,” he addressed the King, not completely believing in his own words. He started walking forward, leaving you behind as he shrunk in height down the carpeted ramp.

“Nonsense! Tonight you shall sup with us and take refuge in our quarters. Daniel and Jackson are now safe again because of your valiance, and you shall both be handsomely rewarded.” His eyes lit up with excitement as they wandered over to you, finally within range for him to see.

Oh no, you felt a rush of heat flush your cheeks and neck. Did he remember you? Did your haircut and change of clothes fall short of a disguise in the King’s court? Was your interaction with him all those weeks ago that memorable? Was he going to change his mind once he figured out who you really were? Would he send you away and let Morgan stay? 

“What say you, Lord Morgan and Lady Maria?” The King was all but standing in place, leaning forward as he offered what Maria the traveler would have no doubt killed for. You had to play your part, no matter how uncomfortable it made you.

“Aye!” You chanted, relieved that he didn’t see right through you. You winked at Morgan, giving him the impression that you were just as thrown off as he was.

“Aye,” he repeated after you. “Yeah. That would be good,” he smiled tentatively. 

The King clapped his hands together, looking over at Jerry whose name you weren’t supposed to know yet. “Jerry! See to it that our guests find themselves in the most comfortable of rooms after dinner tonight.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

Phew, you thought. So far so good.  
——————————

“What if this place is like… Jonestown or something?” You paced Morgan’s room with your arms across your chest, seeing what he thought of the Kingdom now that the two of you were alone.

Sure, this place was better than the Sanctuary, and everyone seemed really happy here, but that’s all that you knew. Negan never talked about the Kingdom, not really. For all you knew they could be making human sacrifices behind his back and he’d be none the wiser. Your emotions were heightened, your world turned upside down; all you wanted was to make sure you weren’t falling into a trap. 

“Jonestown?” Morgan laughed and took off his shoes. “Is this the first community you’ve encountered?”

You could’ve lied and said yes. “No.” You uncrossed your arms and leaned against the wall. “But it didn’t end well there, either.” That wasn't a lie.

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” He paused. “You scared?” 

”Hell yeah, I’m scared." You wished you could tell him exactly what you were scared of, to trust him completely with your thoughts, but just like back at the Sanctuary, that was a luxury you couldn’t afford. "These people are nice, Morgan; too nice, if you know what I mean.” 

”It’s the tiger isn’t it?” He smirked, trying to lighten the mood. 

”It’s not the damn tiger.” He wasn't falling for it. Maybe you were just being paranoid, after all. 

“They could have killed us on the road,” he started, looking at you earnestly. “In the theater or at dinner, here in my bedroom, but they didn’t.” He swallowed hard, looking up at you from his spot on the twin bed. “You could have done the same, but you didn’t, either.”

You laughed, looking up at the ceiling. 

“You could have let that walker bite me, but you took him out.” He took off his socks and folded them together, tucking them into his boots at the foot of his bed. “Why don’t you give them a chance like you gave me?”

“I’ve known you for a grand total of about ten hours, okay?” You held up your hands in defense, displaying all of your fingers.

“Yet you’re in my room asking for my advice.” He placed his hands solemnly on his thighs, letting out a heavy sigh. “Look, I know the King… does his own thing, but, let’s give him a chance. The both of us. If you still feel weird by this time tomorrow night we’ll get out of here together.”

“Fine,” you sighed, crossing your arms again. “I’ll see you in the chow hall for breakfast.”


	14. Chapter 14

The breakfast cobbler crumbled under your fork as you pierced into it, the smell of sausage and egg mixing together as it brought you back to Sunday mornings with your grandmother. It tasted even better than it smelled, the warm flaky crust sealing the deal as you closed your eyes and savored it out loud. 

“That good, huh?” Morgan took a bite of his potatoes and red pepper, raising an eyebrow. “Still think they’re trying to poison the Kool-Aid?”

“Alright,” you rolled your eyes, chewing up your food. “I feel better about it now that I’ve slept,” you admitted. You couldn’t tell him that you only said those things in a last-ditch effort to sell your skepticism, to seem like you weren’t really sure about this place. “Anyways, you should really try this cobbler,” you changed the subject. 

Morgan smiled, finishing his bite. “All life is precious, Maria.” He pointed to the sausage and egg on your plate. 

“Even those deadbeats out there?” You pointed outside, taking a big bite of sausage.

“They’re different, they’re already gone.” He paused, looking down at his plate then up at you. “But yeah, no matter how small, all life still has potential to do some good. I’ll stick to my peppers, thanks.”

“Your loss, vegan.” You shrugged and continued on with your cobbler as a young man with curly brown hair sat down next to Morgan. His hazel eyes reminded you of Alex’s, the way the green overtook the brown in the morning sunlight as he stared at both of you.

“Ezekiel told me there were some new recruits, and I know just about every face here in the Kingdom except for yours, so… must be you guys. I’m Benjamin.” He held his hand out for you to shake.

“Maria,” you shook it gladly, unable to remember the last time you simply shook hands upon meeting a new person in the apocalypse.

“Nice to meet you.” He smiled and let go, looking over at Morgan who quietly returned the gesture. “So where are you guys from? We haven’t had any guests here in a long time.”

Uh oh, the dreaded question finally came. You heard your pulse start to beat loudly in your ears, deafening you as you scurried to remember what Laura had told you to say. Where were you supposed to be from again? What was your backstory? Where were you even at right now? Virginia? Tennessee? You looked over at Morgan who mumbled something about Georgia until it was your turn to speak.

“Memphis,” you blurted out, causing both Morgan and Benjamin to look up. “I’m from Memphis,” you confirmed.

“You don’t have an accent.” Benjamin leaned forward in his seat, your brother’s eyes shining curiously from his young face. 

“Well I didn’t live there until later, I was… I was travel nursing, and I’d only been there for a week or so when…” you started to dig yourself even further into the grave.

“You’re a nurse?” Morgan asked, setting his fork down. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“Yeah.” You stated matter of factly. “Well, now I’m telling you that.” A fiery heat filled your chest as you looked at them, afraid they’d call your bluff. “And what did you do before all of this, huh?”

“Wait a minute, you didn’t know that? I thought you guys were traveling together.” Benjamin pried, the little shit.

“Nothing useful,” Morgan addressed you first, turning slowly toward the younger man. Oh, so he could be secretive, but you couldn’t? You crossed your arms over your chest. 

“We’d only met a few hours before we ran into your men. The walkers didn’t give us much time to talk,” he finished, looking up at you as if asking for your input. 

“Morgan saved my life when he didn’t have to, so… I stayed with him,” you added, finally telling the truth. 

Benjamin looked at Morgan then back at you, suspiciously trying to put the pieces together before leaning forward. “Well, if you’re a nurse, then I gotta show you the infirmary. Dana could always use a pair of helping hands.” 

———————————————

Dana wasn’t nearly as friendly as the rest of the people at the Kingdom, and certainly not as considerate of your peace of mind. She showed you around the infirmary only after quizzing you on about a dozen medical issues per minute, reminding you of your least favorite professor from nursing school. She was tough and blunt, but you could tell that she meant well, presenting a wealth of knowledge for you to learn from. 

You finished your day with her and met Morgan for dinner, repeating this mundane sun cycle two or three more times until a week had almost passed. He’d tell you about teaching Aikido to young Benjamin and in return you’d tell him about wrapping a sprained ankle. It was hardly an even trade, but it was already better than your life back at the Sanctuary. 

The next day on the calendar was Tuesday. It was the day that the Kingdom always prepared their offering for the Saviors, and also the day that you had to meet up with Negan. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t nervous, that you weren’t wringing your hands dry of any bit of information to give him. The people here were too nice, too giving, and above all else too oblivious of their deal with the Saviors to give you anything worthwhile. In order to get any good information you’d have to drill Morgan for everything he knew about the King's Guard, or even more risky, the King himself.

You’d already seen him around the Kingdom a few times, walking amongst his people without requiring them to bow at his feet. He helped Nabila in the garden, Jonathan with the laundry, and Samantha in the kitchen when he had the chance, all with a smile on his face. He directed that smile at you a couple of times, too. 

His hand patted your shoulder a little too long while his smile widened deeply into his eyes enough to make yours hold fast. It was probably nothing more than a ruse, though, and you wondered if you could use it to your advantage. How long could he keep up that happiness for the sake of his people, for you and Morgan? Little did you know, the answer was about to fall right into your lap.

“May I join you, fair maiden?” The King stood in the doorway to the choir room, his proper demeanor betrayed by a lazy lean against the metal frame. He offered his hand out in the direction of the piano bench you were sitting on, that beautiful smile of his sparking immediate joy within you.

“Who, me? Here?” You tried to ignore that joy, clearing your throat as you looked at the empty seat next to you.

“Yes,” he smiled. “That is, if you don’t mind.” 

“Oh, I don’t mind, Your Majesty.” You scooted over to make room for him, closing the sheet music you were studying before he approached the bench. 

“Please, call me Ezekiel” He tilted his head and sat down next to you. “Now, how are you liking things here, Maria? How do you find the Kingdom’s infirmary? Up to par, I hope?”

“It’s wonderful… Ezekiel,” you tried out his first name. “Everything here is just wonderful.” You felt his eyes on you as you kept yours forward, the intensity of his stare making your pulse skip ahead. 

“I do my best to make life here at the Kingdom as pleasant as possible, to thwart out the night that’s so dark and full of terrors.” He paused briefly. “I try to make up for it with things that make me happy, things that make others happy.” 

“Yeah, well you’re doing a pretty damn good job,” you praised him, focusing on the picture of Julie Andrews dancing in a meadow. You tried to think of a quick excuse for a nurse sitting alone in the choir room, but could come up with nothing.

“Am I?” He laughed, the sound a sweet and pleasant song in your ears. “And what makes you happy, Maria?”

“Me?” You turned to face him, the freckles on his cheeks barely evident as the sun slowly slid below the horizon. 

“Is it music that you love?” He pointed to the book before you, tracing the large cursive S at the beginning of the title.

Nursing was the one thing that kept you alive before and after the apocalypse, but it didn’t make you happy, not really. It paid your bills and gave you leverage at the Sanctuary with your family… until it didn’t. Truth be told, you’d rather study musical theater, and when you discovered that the Kingdom had a choir room, well, you just had to check it out. 

“Yeah,” you summed it up.

“How do you solve a problem like Maria?” He swallowed slowly, tracing his fingertips onto yours. 

Despite your desire to see where this went, to feel good and happy while extracting information for Negan, you pulled back from his touch. You clutched the paperback book to your chest, staring at him with conflicted emotion.

“I’m sorry,” The King started, putting his hands up in the air.

“Sorry for what?” you asked, placing the book back on the stand. You didn’t mean to draw back from him so quickly, to seem like a caged animal who hadn’t been touched in years; you just weren’t used to someone being so gentle with you.

“For whatever harm he’s done to you,” he provoked.

Oh God, did he know? Was he talking about Negan or was he just using it as a blanket statement for anyone who might have hurt you in the past? Did he think it was Morgan who caused you to be this way? You decided it was better to play dumb until he put all of his cards on the table. 

“For whatever he’s still doing to you.” He pointed to your jacket and the yellowing bruises on your neck, letting his hands rest on his knees as he took in a deep breath. “I can’t imagine Negan is a gentle lover, and I understand your resistance to trust me.”

Your mouth all but fell onto the floor, rendering you speechless as he saw right through you. “I…uhh…”

“Kindness to you must be nothing more than another bargaining chip, a way to merely manipulate the facts in front of you. When you’ve lived in darkness all your life, it’s hard to believe that there’s any light.” Ezekiel’s face softened, his thick lashes blinking over deep brown eyes.

Wait a minute, what? Wasn’t he mad? Wasn’t he going to yell at you or bring you out in front of everyone to be made an example of? Why wasn’t he questioning you in front of Morgan to get a better story? Did he know how terrible Negan could be? What his plans were for him?

“The turning of the tide changed people, Maria. Some for the better, but most for the worst. I saw too many people go bad, or become victims underneath them. I built this place to be different, to be good.” He lifted his hand to the sheet music and opened to the number ‘Something Good’. 

“Back before all of this I was a zookeeper.” His voice changed from proper and theatrical to common and relaxed. “Shiva, she didn’t trust me right away, either. We had a symbiotic relationship to a degree; I would feed and bathe her while she didn’t eat me for lunch, and that was enough for a while.” He smiled at you, amused at your puzzled look. “One day she got trapped in a mote, cut her leg wide open in the exhibit and I went down there when no one else would. She was bleeding out, so I tied my shirt around her leg to stop it, and ever since then she’s never even shown a tooth my way.”

“Are you comparing me to your pet tiger?” You blinked at him wildly, unable to register the amount of weight taken off your shoulders with your involuntary confession. 

The King laughed. “What I’m trying to say, fair maiden,” he went back into his proper speech pattern. “Is that my kindness comes at no cost, has no strings, and no stipulations.” He held out his hand. “All I ask for in return is the truth.”

You stared at him in disbelief, his face honest and true. Did Richard recognize you and tell him who you were? How did he catch onto you so quickly? Were you that bad of a liar, or was he just that perceptive? It didn’t matter, the jig was up and you had to say something… anything to cut this silence in half as it weighed down on both of you. 

“I…” Your words would barely come out as you took his hand. You wracked your brain for the right words to explain yourself, to come up with some sort of story to save your skin, but all you had was the truth. 

If Negan was a haunted house, then Ezekiel was a church. His hands welcomed you home without judgement or anger, without worry or fear of being harmed. His presence was holy, purifying you with nothing more than a look and a touch of his hand. How had God made these two completely different people and put them both in your path?

“Negan sent me here to spy on you.” Your lip began to quiver, your eyes welling up with tears as your brother’s memory came back to you. You thought you’d feel guilty after telling him what your mission was, but instead you felt cleansed, like you were immediately forgiven after visiting the confessional.

“I know.” He confessed, raising his eyebrows. “I recognized you the moment you walked into the Kingdom.”

“You did?” Maybe Negan had underestimated him. “W..why didn’t you say anything?” 

“And risk blowing your cover in front of Morgan? Nah. I wanted to see what you would do… how long you could keep it up. What’s that old saying? ‘Can’t bullshit a bullshitter’?” He laughed and placed his fingers on the piano, pressing down on the keys as they played the opening bars of the duet. “Plus, I wanted to see if you’d like it here.” He took his hands off the keyboard.

“So, now what? You kick me out? Send me packing in the morning and tell Morgan that I left?” You turned into him on the bench, wishing he would have continued playing the song.

“Now, what good would that do anyone? Negan wants information, does he not?” His smile wrinkled his eyes, making you wonder if his face hurt from doing that all day. 

“Yes.” The thought of seeing Negan again after being here was more than daunting, like returning to work after an amazing vacation.

“Who says Negan has to know I found you out? That Morgan or anyone else here has to be any wiser?” He leaned forward and closed the book. “I keep many secrets from my people about the Saviors, to keep the good in and the bad out. If you’re happy here, even if you only think that you could be… Let’s let him believe that you’re still working for him, to keep whoever it is from harm.”

“It’s my…” you started to explain, but he put his hand up in protest. 

“Another time. You can tell me after.”


	15. Chapter 15

That night you could barely sleep, but when you did your mind raced a thousand different ways, leaving you with the memory of only one stoic dream. You remember being on top of a mountain in some strange and foreign country, the wind blowing you this way and that as you tried your best to keep your balance. You looked down at your feet to make sure they were steady and realized you were standing on a set of old, crumbling stairs. 

Those stairs were made of stone, at least a thousand years old as you slowly walked down them. Your body got heavier with each step, every time you planted your foot on another landing, the sound of your feet hitting the rock grew louder. It echoed in the valley as the very mountain you stood on shook, violently breaking up pebbles and sending them to the ground. The steps below you kept getting smaller and farther away, the cracks in them deeper as you pondered whether or not you should keep going. 

You managed to jump down to the next step, the ancient ruin crumbling beneath you as the entire mountainside quaked. It shook trees loose from their roots, rocks from their resting places and snow from the very top of the mountain. You tried your best to go back and climb up to the previous step but it was already too far away. You jumped and clawed at the stairwell, breaking your nails against the stone only to feel the ground below you disappear entirely. The air escaped your lungs as you fell, your scream a silent whisper as you plummeted down the dark depths of the valley until...

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Phew! The alarm on your watch woke you up before you could hit the ground.  
—————————————-  
Getting your mindset ready to meet Negan after that dream was one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do. You were already nervous, but this just made things worse. What did it mean? You tried your best to shake it from your brain as you walked outside the Kingdom walls past the ghost town and into the forest. Negan gave you the location of your secret meeting place before he sent you off with Laura that morning, and a part of you hoped he didn’t show up. You hoped that this Rick character was giving him enough trouble to keep him busy on the other side of town, but deep down you knew that was only a fool’s hope. 

The place he’d told you to meet him at was marked with a spray-painted S, claiming the broken down shack as property of the Saviors. Its faded color made you wonder what else he’d used it for in the past: offerings from the Kingdom, or something else entirely, although it was probably better that you didn’t know. You prepared yourself as you approached the cabin, cautiously taking in Negan’s towering silhouette through the grimey window by the door. You watched as he paced back and forth with Lucille in his hands, talking to himself quietly as if he were an actor preparing his lines. This was it, you thought, it was now or never.

You opened the door and saw him for the first time in a week, all six feet of him covered in black leather and malice as he stared you down from the center of the room. He was missing his red scarf, the colors of battle no longer surrounding his throat as his black boots creaked across the wooden floor. 

“Holy shit! She really did chop all your goddamn hair off, didn’t she?” He stepped toward you as you entered the room, running his fingers through your chin-length locks. 

You stared at him in silence, secretly hoping to no avail that your attraction to him would die down after a week at the Kingdom, but his scent was twice as strong, his smile twice as enticing, and his fingers that much more intense on your skin. Your time away had done nothing to curtail your desire for him, in fact you felt that it had only strengthened it.

“I mean, look at you!” he continued. “You’ve really gone native! I’m surprised you don’t have a goddamn feather in your hair!” He traced the bottom of your locks with his fingers, curling them under your chin as they bounced back behind your ear. “I miss your old hair, but I gotta admit this is a good look, too.” He leaned in and brought his mouth to yours, stopping just short of a kiss. “And aren’t you forgetting something, Princess?”

God, he was so close to you. Close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin, the calluses on his fingers and the bulge between his legs. You smiled against the thin sheet of oxygen that kept you apart, letting your knees bend as they took you down to a genuflected kneel; some things never change.

“That’s it,” he growled into a laugh, licking his lips as he circled around you. “You know, out of all the positions I’ve put you in, there’s nothing I love more than watching you get down on your knees for me.”

“Is that so?” You looked up at him with hungry eyes, the morning sun illuminating him through a small opening in the window. 

“Yeah, that’s so.” He stopped walking around you and palmed his erection through his jeans, silently taking you in. “No one fucks like you, you know that?” He set Lucille down against the wall and started unfastening his belts. “No matter how many times I accidentally call them your name.” He slid the leather straps out of their loops and tossed them onto the floor next to Lucille before unfastening his dark gray jeans. “Or on purpose,” he finished, laughing at his own joke.

“Really?” You held your breath in suspense as he slid his pants down along with his boxer briefs, showing you just how much he missed you. 

Even though it had only been a week, your mouth still watered at the sight of him, your thighs still quivered, and your lips still slicked themselves with moisture in anticipation for what was to come. The big bad wolf had finally come back to blow your house down, and you were more than willing to let him in.

“Really,” he repeated, taking his glove off and gripping himself at the base. “Take your pants off and get on the bed.”

The bed? There was a bed in here? Since when? You searched the room front and back until you found a rickety twin bed barely standing on an old metal frame. “How did you know there’d be a bed in here?”

“You think I didn’t scope the place out before I brought you here?” he laughed, motioning for you to turn around with his fingers. “I've always got a plan. You should know that by now.”

Of course he did. You made quick work of unfastening your jeans before climbing on top of the questionable bed in the corner of the room. Keeping your eyes forward, you realized you didn’t have a giant mirror to watch him approach you while you waited. Instead you studied the pattern of water damage on the mattress before getting on your hands and knees as the warmth between your thighs started to swell and beg for mercy. 

“That’s my girl. You miss me?” His voice grew nearer, the springs on the mattress crying out in agony as he dropped his knees into them behind you.

“Yes,” you whispered, feeling his hands pull your clothes down even further down your thighs. 

“Yes, what?” he prompted, tugging your jeans forcefully down to your ankles. 

“Yes, Daddy,” you whimpered, glancing quickly back at him. 

“So you haven’t forgotten everything, huh?” He lifted your shirt up your back, sending little fireworks up and down your spine as his coarse fingertips tucked it under your bra. 

“No.” You took in a deep breath as he left a trail of fiery kisses down your back, his whiskers scratching the skin just above your ass as he spread your cheeks apart with his palms. “How could I forget this?” you admitted.

You let your eyelids fall as those kisses turned into nibbles, that twinge of pain from his teeth meeting the pleasure of his fingers between your lips. God, he always knew what he was doing and exactly how to do it, didn’t he? You pushed your hips back against him, this time feeling his tongue lap up the juices from your length before sliding a few fingers deep inside. 

“Negan,” you moaned, “That feels so good.” 

“Good baby, you’re so fucking wet,” he encouraged, taking your clit into his mouth. He spread your lips as he sucked on your bud, tugging on it so hard with his teeth you were sure it was going to bruise, but you didn’t care. His mouth and hands were a deadly combination, their memory of your body’s trigger points getting quicker every time they touched you. 

“Harder,” you goaded him, lifting your hips up so it was easier for him to access. “Bite it harder!” 

You gasped as he followed your instructions, taking your clit between his teeth with a flick of his tongue. He nearly bit it in half as he drew it into his mouth, sucking on it like his life depended on it. “Oh my God, Negan, that’s it.” You felt your muscles start to tighten as a knot formed in your belly, the sensation of his whiskers and teeth bringing you to the edge of bliss as you rode his filthy mouth. 

Just as you were about to come undone, Negan pulled away, preventing you from coming all over his smug face. “As much as I’d love to spend all my time down there, Princess,” he interrupted, his words eclipsing your imminate high. “I’ve got a lot of errands to run today.” He pushed himself inside you. “Gotta give Rick the Prick a good surprise visit.”

Gasping as you adjusted to his size, you grabbed hold of the edges of the mattress while he plowed into you. “Uh-huh,” you answered, letting your body enjoy this carnal treat. You kept your eyes closed as he pushed so deep inside you that his balls were now flush with your newly abused clit, setting your entire core on fire. He pulled out and rested his hands on your hips, pushing inside you quicker and quicker as his hips behaved like a well-oiled machine. This is what you needed, no games or power play while you tried your best to follow his unspoken rules; just raw uncomplicated sex. 

You pushed back against him as he rocked himself inside you, his hands traveling up your spine until they reached the back of your neck. He weaved his fingers into your hairline, interlocking them between your newly shortened locks as he grabbed a hold of them at the base of your skull. 

“Oh yeah, I think I like this haircut a lot, Princess,” he mumbled breathlessly.

You felt him lean forward, the tip of his cock hitting that sweet spot as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. One, two, three more pumps was all it took to light that fire inside you. That explosive heat traveled up your core and into your brain, setting your whole body ablaze with delicious wildfire as you spasmed and screamed your lover’s name into the hot summer wind.

“I love it when you get off so damn fast, you know that Princess?” Negan laughed at his victory, relentlessly thrusting into you as he chased his own orgasm with breathy huffs. 

“Yes, Daddy!” The sensation of him inside you as your walls continued to contract made your toes curl and your mouth fall open. The tiny cabin you were in made the sound of skin on skin thrum an even louder rhythm, his guttural moans completing the musical masterpiece your bodies always composed together. 

“Fuck, baby,” he whispered, pulling you into him one final time before his orgasm rumbled in his chest. He spilled himself inside you, letting go of your hair only to drag his nails down your back as he came. His claws pierced your flesh, leaving his mark of ownership on you as little red dots popped up in their place. 

You cried out as he dug into your skin, the pain becoming more than you could bear as he raked his fingers from your shoulder blades into your tailbone. It was like Lucille all over again, only three times as painful as you nearly ripped the edge of the mattress right off. You arched your back as he smoothed his hands over your wounds, barely giving the sting a chance to wear off. 

He held himself inside you as his mouth made its way up your raw and open flesh, his tongue gently licking your wounds. He took his time, kissing and sucking the supple skin around them as if to make up for what he did until his mouth finally reached your shoulders. 

“Negan,” you whispered, trembling and unable to register all the sensations you were feeling.

“Hmmm?” He nuzzled into your neck, wrapping his hand around your throat. 

“Don’t,” you protested, sliding your fingers underneath his hand. “They’ll see.”

“They?” He let go of your neck, resting back on his knees.

“The Kingdom,” you started, thinking of Morgan and Dana in particular. “They ask a lot of questions.”

Negan exhaled and ran a hand over his face, pulling out of you as a gush of semen spilled out in the process. “And just what have you told the good people of the Kingdom, Princess?” He grazed his palms across your cheeks, spreading them apart so he could enjoy the show.

“What you told me to tell them, that I’m a traveler.” You paused and let him stare at you. “They think my name’s Maria.”

Negan paused and collected the cream that slowly oozed between your folds, standing up and off the squeaky mattress. “Maria, huh,” he laughed. “Has anyone there confided in Ave Maria about disturbing the peace? Anyone who seems like a bad apple?” He took a few steps forward, bringing his fingers to your lips as they held his dripping hot sex.

“Not yet.” You opened your mouth and let him paint your tongue a salty coat of white.

“None of the workers? Not even the King's Guard?” He pushed his fingers to the back of your throat, gagging you as he licked his own lips in the process. “Not even the King himself?” He raised an eyebrow as he drew his digits from your lips, quickly pulling his pants back up. 

“No,” you answered, leaning back into a seated position on the bed. “I’ll need more time to get more information.” The shift in your weight made the scratches on your back sting even more, drawing your hand to the affected area. You winced and glanced up at him, eyes narrowing as he didn’t even seem to notice. “Jesus, that hurt!” You pulled your hand back in front of you and showed him the drops of blood on your palm.

“What, you don’t like it rough anymore?” He picked up one of his belts, sliding it into his pant loops. “It’s nothing a badass nurse like you can’t fix,” he smirked, rolling his tongue across his teeth.

“That’s not the point!” You yelled at him. Oh no, you’d never yelled at him before.

“Don’t forget who’s in charge here, Princess.” He held your gaze, his eyes a fiery burgundy before he broke his stare and turned his back to you, wrapping his second belt around his waist. “You want me to pull you out of here, is that it?”

“No,” you blurted out, blinking wildly as he continued to dress himself. “I just don’t want to bleed every time that I come, and someone's bound to notice blood on a white t-shirt.” 

“Fine,” he paused, “What do you want, a safe word or something? Is that going to make you feel better about all this?”

“That would be nice.” You stood up and pulled your pants around your waist, wincing as the dirty denim brushed against your scrapes. “How about…I don’t know, pomegranate?” you offered.

“There, now, see how fuckin’ easy that was?” He fastened his belt and picked up Lucille, completing his look as he sauntered toward you. “Now, you go get your ass back in there and make Daddy proud, okay?” He smacked your right cheek and bit his lip, gripping Lucille like he was ready to put her to good use. “Same time next week, Princess. Got it?”

“Got it.” You nodded, rubbing the blood off onto your jeans. “How’s my family doing?” you finally asked, “Are they okay?”

Negan chuckled, leaning backward as his mirthless laughter filled the room. “Oh man, Gary’s doing just fine, and like I said earlier, baby, no one fucks like you, no matter how hard I pretend.”


	16. Chapter 16

Your walk back to the Kingdom was a mixture of both hot and cold, the open skin on your back saturated with sweat, cooling your body down while the blazing summer sun burned its hottest at high noon. You could feel your body begin to shiver as your brain tried its best to regulate your temperature. Sure, it was just a scratch if you broke it down to the bare basics, but it was still an open wound, a potential source of infection, something you needed to clean as soon as possible.

By the time you made it back to the infirmary, you only ran into a handful of villagers along the way. You’d kept your greetings short and your back against the wall as you tried to seem normal, creeping along the faces of each building like some sort of paranoid version of Spider-Man. That’ll do it, you told yourself, no one would suspect anything if you acted like that, right? 

Too focused to really care, you shut the door behind you when you noticed that Dana had already left for lunch. You closed the blinds, taking your shirt off before twisting your body around in front of the mirror to get a better look. The scratches were deep and hurt like hell, jagged as they throbbed and drug you down to the ground as your blood pulsed through them.  
You pulled your skin toward the mirror, eyeing the damage he’d done before waltzing over to the cabinet for a bottle of normal saline. With all the shit he was up to these days, who knows what kind of bacteria was growing beneath Negan’s fingernails?

The door opened more quickly than you could anticipate, forcing you to curse yourself for not locking it as Morgan, Ezekiel and Richard all barged in. You didn’t have time to hide yourself from them before they saw the scratches on your skin. Instead, you clasped your arms around your chest and abdomen as they stared at you, Richard’s face swollen from several punches with burgundy blood dried just below his nose. 

“Maria!” Morgan approached you without pretense, turning you around so he could inspect the markings on your back. “You’re bleeding. What happened? Did you get bit?” he asked shakily, slowly circling around you as he inspected the rest of your body for further injury. Apparently Richard’s situation wasn’t all that dire. 

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” you lied to him. “I scratched myself hopping over the fence is all.”

“Hopping over the fence?” Those skeptical eyes squinted again, practically shrinking you with their lids as they closed together.

“Maria was…” Ezekiel interjected, stepping in between the two of you, “On a special mission for me outside the Kingdom.” He looked over at you with sympathetic eyes. 

“With the Saviors?” Morgan challenged, shifting his weight from hip to hip as he faced his king. “She’s a nurse, not a fighter like me.”

“Yeah, you’re some sort of fighter, alright,” Richard piped in. 

“Enough!” Ezekiel shot a scolding look at Richard before returning his gaze to Morgan. “Tensions are high enough after today’s events as it is! We don’t need them heightened between our own people.” He paused, noting the bottle of saline on the counter next to your hand. “Maria’s mission involved the Saviors, yes, and she’s encountered them before. Everyone in this room knows about our deal with them now, and it shall stay that way, not a single soul more, is that understood?”

Morgan nodded reluctantly, pressing his lips together in defeat. 

“Morgan, take Richard outside and get him cleaned up. Maria and I have much to discuss.” He smiled at you as his eyebrows raised into his soft gray hairline, the usual sparkle in his eyes dull with heavy burden.

“You okay?” Morgan whispered into your ear before leaving your side. 

“I’m alright,” you nodded, squeezing his shoulder. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Okay,” he trusted, taking your word.

Ezekiel waited until Morgan’s footsteps had died down the hallway before locking the door and entering your personal space. “I was going to ask how your meeting went with him, but it seems that I need not even ask.”

“It went about as good as you’d expect,” you told him, turning around to look for a gauze pad large enough to cover your lower back. “And what about you? Does Richard always get punched in the face at your drops, or is that new, too?” You wanted to deflect the attention away from your reddened skin, from your jealous thoughts of Negan and your sister to find out what had gotten them all riled up.

“That’s a new development, actually. Gavin is usually very good to us, but for some reason he and his crew were on edge more than usual today.” He took a few more steps in your direction. “Maria, seeing you like this...”

“I’ll be fine, I just need to clean it and go on with my day,” you reassured him.

“Will you be?” His face softened with his words, enveloping you with the comfort he always brought with him. “Fine?”

“I have to be, right?” You laughed at this menial conversation, grabbing the bottle of saline before walking over to the mirror and attempting to pour it over your back. 

“Let me help you.” He lifted his hand out as you failed miserably to clean your own wound, splashing the extra liquid onto the floor. “Please, Maria, let someone else care for the caregiver.”

You took in a deep breath as you decided to let him help you, worry weighing him down with whatever happened at the drop today. You quickly realized that both of you wanted to forget what happened on your mission, to distract yourselves with each other’s problems, and maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe he needed you as badly as you needed him.

“Okay,” you resigned, turning toward the cabinets. “Just pour the liquid on my back to clean out the wound.”

“Was this from him, or...?” He asked, taking the bottle in his hands.

“Yeah, it was.” You tried to keep it simple, to spare Ezekiel’s ears from all the dirty details of your violent romp with your ex in the middle of the woods, if you could even call him your ex.

“I can understand if you don’t want to talk about it. A man does this to you, and...” he took in a timid breath, “It makes the mind wander to places I’d rather it not go.” He unscrewed the top of the bottle, setting the cap down gently on the counter next to you. “Is it always like this with him: painful?” 

He brought the bottle to your shoulder blade, pouring the healing liquid over your spine in a baptism of searing comfort until he reached the other side. He stopped as you winced, the solution trickling down over your skin like rain pouring down a mountainside, cleaning out the brooks and creeks with water from the heavens. 

How could you make Ezekiel understand that Negan was an ocean of anguish, raging like the tides with violent rogue waves and tsunamis of pain? That you’d been out of the water for years until your family came to the Sanctuary, and that you were stupid enough to dive in head first without dipping your toes to test out the water? 

“It didn’t start out that way,” you began. “I thought Negan was something I could handle,” you admitted, breathing out as the clear liquid dampened your jeans. “I thought he was something the world out there had hardened my heart enough to deal with, but…” you trailed off, letting a tear fell onto the counter, “I was wrong.” 

You leaned forward and wiped the tear from your eye, taking a paper towel and soaking up what was left of it on the counter. “I wasn’t… strong enough.” You bit your lip as Ezekiel brought the gauze pad up to your back, listening silently as he pressed the clean bandage onto your healing wound. “I wasn’t strong enough,” you repeated. 

Ezekiel held onto you and finished taping a border around your lower back, reinforcing the bond with his fingertips before stepping away to give you room to turn around. “Quite the contrary, my lady,” he comforted. “You’re much stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

You grinned at the blind support, his smile almost making you forget how much pain you were actually in. “I didn’t really have a choice in all this, but thank you anyways, you’re very sweet.” 

Smiling back at him, the two of you grinned at each other like idiots until you realized that neither of you were talking anymore. Every time you looked at him he seemed to grow a little warmer, a little happier and more handsome. Maybe it was just one of the side effects of living here in the Kingdom, a comparison of him against Negan, or maybe he actually was one of the most beautiful men you’d ever laid eyes on.

“He’s not worried about you, about your loyalty to him,” you interrupted yourself, making sure you didn’t fall down the rabbit hole of Ezekiel’s good looks. “There’s another community that’s giving him trouble, and he’s focusing all his energy on them right now.”

“Hilltop?” Ezekiel handed you your t-shirt, helping guide your arms through the sleeves so you wouldn’t mess up your dressing. 

“No, I don’t think so. It’s someone new, someone named Rick.” You pulled the hem of your shirt down and looked at yourself in the mirror, the dried blood still pretty evident. “Maybe that’s why tensions were high at the drop today?”

“That may be so, my lady,” he paused, looking you over like a glass figurine that was about to break. “Did he say anything else about this Rick character?”

“No, not really. We didn’t do a whole lot of talking.” You regretted your words as soon as they left your lips, watching Ezekiel’s joyful features fall into solemnity. Did he care for you that way? Was he concerned for your well-being or was it something more than that?

“Your brother was here that day.” The sentence came out of his mouth so quickly you wondered how long he had been keeping it in. "Forgive me for not telling you sooner, I couldn't find the right moment."

“Alex? But you said he wasn’t here, y-y-you said you hadn’t seen him, y-you said that they would have brought him to you for review if he came looking for safe passage!” Your scratches started stinging again, the thought of your brother safe inside these walls messing with your mind.

“I know what I said,” Ezekiel stated calmly, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I said what I had to keep my people and your brother safe.”

Unbelievable! How could he have gone all this time without telling you something so big when you thought your brother had died never seeing this heavenly place? That he had escaped the Sanctuary for nothing but the death of his mother and the hot sticky road. 

“So he got to see this place, then?” You felt more tears start to well up in the corner of your lids, the fluid filling up your sinuses as the possibilities of his life flashed before your eyes. “He got to meet you, and see Shiva? The gardens and the children? He always wanted children, him and Bethany, they did. I couldn’t see it in a world like that, but in a world like this, well, I could see it,” you rambled on, joy and anger mixing together in a nervous dialogue.

“Yes,” he answered. “He and his wife were very kind and grateful people.” He released his grip on your shoulder and sat down next to you, leaning against the counter. “He told me that they were travelers looking to work for their keep, and I almost believed them. His wife looked a little too taken care of for them to be on the road as long as they claimed, but I had Benjamin show them around anyways.”

Benjamin, the boy with your brother’s eyes, of course he was the one to show them around. “How long was he here?” You sniffled and rubbed your nose with the back of your hand. 

“A few hours. They got a good meal before our scouts caught wind of the Saviors and helped them escape out the back wall.”

“They didn’t escape,” you informed him, crossing your arms over your chest. You closed your eyes as the sound of Lucille cracking into Alex’s skull shook you into standing up. “No, they couldn’t have. Somebody had to pay, and I’m glad it wasn’t one of your people, but…” you trailed off, walking toward the door. “Thank you for patching me up, Ezekiel. I’m gonna go to my quarters now.”


	17. Chapter 17

Three knocks rapped lightly on the cedar door before the twisting of the brass knob squeaked over them. It was quiet but just loud enough to jolt you from the sporadic dreams you could barely call sleep. This morning’s events were too much for you to take in without giving your identity away to the rest of the Kingdom, so you convinced Dana to give you the rest of the afternoon off.

“Maria,” Morgan whispered, his timbre soft and gray like rain in the middle of the night, “Maria, it’s me.” He let go of the door handle before pushing it open, waiting on you to permit him entry. 

“Yeah, come in,” you said against your better judgement, sitting up and wiping your eyes. The sweet release of sleep didn’t do you any favors as the scratches on your back continued to throb. You cleared your throat and wracked your brain for some believable story to give to Morgan, but could think of nothing.

“Dana said you weren’t feeling well,” he started, pushing the door open with one hand as he held a bowl of soup in the other. 

“Not really, no.” You ran a hand down your lower back and winced. “You should go,” you grumbled, trying to push him away. “I don’t want to see anyone right now.”

“Nah, I won’t do that.” He set his staff against your dresser and closed the door behind him, slowly stepping into your safe space. “You need to eat, and I know you’re too stubborn to come and get some yourself.”

You laughed, amazed at his audacious generosity that never seemed to falter. How could someone like him exist in a world like this, with all the darkness and evil surrounding you? How could he be so sweet as you continually pushed him away? You didn’t deserve him, there was no way in hell that you could. You didn’t deserve any of this. 

“Okay,” you nodded reluctantly, collecting the sheets around your waist as you sat up straight against your pillows.

“That mission Ezekiel sent you on today, what really happened?” He took the container off the bowl of soup and sat down in the middle of your bed, springs groaning from the extra weight.

“Nothing,” you lied, trying to keep the conversation light as he pulled a plastic spoon from a napkin in his pocket.

“Nothing?” he repeated, dipping the spoon into the chicken broth before cautiously blowing on it. He smiled and brought it to your lips, the aroma reminding you of the soup your mother made on those cold autumn nights in the middle of the school year. You remembered the leaves were brown and orange then, crispy as they fell off their branches in unpredictable patterns, the cool breeze tossing them in and out of your neighbor’s yard. If you closed your eyes long enough, you could almost convince yourself that you were back there. 

“What do you know about the Saviors?” Morgan poured the broth into your mouth, his other hand under your chin.

“The Saviors?” You feigned confusion, swallowing the bland broth gratefully.

“Maria,” He leaned forward, setting the soup down on your bedside table. He looked at you with hardened features, his face stern like your father’s when he found out you got your first B-. 

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded, letting your head hang down by your chest. You didn’t want to tell him, to ruin this pristine image he seemed to have of you. “I uh… you were so quick to protect me that day on the road, I didn’t want to tell you where I actually came from.” You swallowed hard, envisioning the shame and judgement about to shape your friend’s eyes.

“Yeah,” he paused, biting his lower lip. “I didn’t exactly tell you where I came from either.”

“And where’s that?” you asked, wondering if you’d actually get an answer from him.

“I was part of a community called Alexandria,” he started, clasping his hands together. “The Saviors were terrorizing a different group, stealing half of their goods, killing their men, holding them hostage. Rick wanted to…”

“Rick?!” You felt a shiver run down your spine, forcing all the hair on your body to stand on end at the sound of this man’s name. “You mean Rick, Rick… Rick the Prick?” You couldn’t stop yourself even if your wanted to, your ex-lover’s words leaving your lips. 

“You know him?” Morgan braced himself, leaning forward as he stared at you. Oh, shit. You’d gone and said the wrong thing. The two of them were clearly close. “Rick Grimes?” He clarified.

“I uh…” you looked around the room for clues on what to say next, anything to change the subject before Morgan’s eyes zeroed in on yours. “I’ve heard of him, yeah,” you confessed, your voice cracking under the pressure.

“Rick wanted to retaliate against the Saviors, stomp them out for good.” He ran a tired hand over his face, shaking his head. “I couldn’t be a part of that, so I took off on the road and ran into you.” He sighed. “How do you know them?”

You let out an exasperated breath, wondering just how much of your story you should actually tell him. If he and Rick were really that close, your history might ruin your friendship altogether. But then again, if they had a falling out over what to do with the Saviors, maybe he’d understand more than anyone. Ah hell, you thought, Ezekiel already knew and he didn’t hate you. And trust goes both ways, doesn’t it?

You decided to tell Morgan the truth. “My family and I were on foot after our van broke down in Kentucky. The Saviors were the first sign of refuge we could find, taking us into the Sanctuary with food and shelter. I was a nurse there, that part wasn’t a lie. The rest of my family had skills useful enough to earn enough points to live decently,” you explained.

“You lived there?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I did,” you nodded, breath still bated. “Things were tolerable for a while until my brother took off with my mom and his wife in the middle of the night. He didn’t say goodbye, he didn’t…”

Morgan blinked slowly as he listened to your story.

“Negan demanded payment for the loss of resources, and he said he was going to burn my dad’s face off unless I…” you trailed off, looking at your feet. Morgan didn’t want to hear this part, but you had to tell it anyways. “Negan did what he wanted with me, dressed me up, brought me here to look for him, made him listen to us while he…” you stopped short, wiping your eyes before any tears could fall onto your cheeks. 

Morgan’s breath came faster as your words progressed, his nostrils flaring in anger as he remained silent.

“We found my brother just outside the Kingdom that night,” you paused, looking down at Morgan’s bouncing knee. “I thought Negan was just going to burn his face off when we got back to the Sanctuary, but he… he used his bat instead. When it fell on him, all the sudden everything was…”

“Red,” Morgan offered, placing a trembling hand on yours. He nodded slowly as he squeezed your hand, biting his lower lip again as he tried to keep the rest of his words inside. “All you saw was red.” 

“Yeah,” you let a tear fall down your cheek, still amazed at how comforted you were by his presence. “He’s gone now, and so is she.” You closed your eyes as more tears streamed down your face, rippling as they hit the back of Morgan’s hand. “The scratches on my back are from Negan. He sent me here to spy on the Kingdom so I can keep my dad and sister safe.”

“You were with him today?” he whispered.

“While you were at the drop?” 

Morgan nodded.

“Yeah,” you admitted.

There was a heavy silence as you watched him process all this information, the details you’d rather him not figure out all coming together as he continued to hold your hand. 

“I’m sorry you went through all that. Truly, I am.” He surprised you, blinking a few times as his eyes filled with tears, wiry lashes catching most of them. “The world wasn’t supposed to be this way, Maria.” He shook his head. “We weren’t built for this, but we can go on... for your brother, for my family. We can be better.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” you started, apologizing for whatever wound your story had opened up for him. God, you really were the worst spy on the planet, weren’t you?

“It’s okay.” He smiled without showing his teeth, grinning at the floor. “When you were there… at the Sanctuary, did you hear anything about him hurting Rick or Carl?” His eyes were desperate, searching your face for answers. 

“No,” you sniffed up your tears and wiped your face. “Rumor has it he actually likes Rick and Carl.”

“Good,” Morgan nodded solemnly, squeezing your hand one more time before letting go and standing up. He took in a deep breath and pointed to the soup at your bedside table. “I made that for you, you should eat it.” 

“Morgan?” You sat up straight as he walked over to the doorway and grabbed his staff. “If Rick does what he asks, they should stay safe.”

“Yeah,” he clenched his teeth, “I’m not so sure that’s gonna happen.”


End file.
